When You Need a Friend
by Narcolepcy375
Summary: (Multi POV; HS-adulthood) Stan has relationship problems and latent mental-health issues, Kyle has a bad rep from Rebecca and some serious apprehensions. Meanwhile, Cartman has selfish plans, Kenny has shitty friends, and South Park still hasn't changed. Follows Stan and Kyle as they navigate into adulthood and into the murky waters of a relationship with their best friend.
1. Kiss the girl

**MARSH**

"_Come on, Stan! This is the moment of truth! You can do this! Just FUCKING KISS HER YOU PUSSY!"_ My mind was screaming that, but I couldn't do it…

"God damnit…" I muttered, turning away. Wendy stared at me concerned- not that fake-worry bullshit that some girlfriends do. Her brow was drawn together and her hands covered mine. God, I hated when she looked at me like that- all perfect emotion. It was impossible to deserve that concern. "I'm sorry…" I said hastily, pulling my hand out from under hers. Her expression softened a little (_thank Jesus_). I still pulled back. "I don't know why I can't do it. I really love you, Wendy. Maybe I'm just nervous. But, _I_ want to kiss _you_, so don't try to kiss me instead…please, can you just wait for me?" I asked.

I knew I was being selfish, but I knew that if she really loved me, she'd let me do this. I _had_ to be the one to kiss _her_. I had to prove to myself that I could…after the last break up.

It was messy. It kinda fucked me up for weeks. Let's just leave it at that.

She took my hands in hers and smiled vaguely. "Stan, I think you're just nervous… But, there isn't anything to worry about. I'm sure you're still a great kisser. I'm going to love you either way…just try again?" she whispered.

We were sitting on my couch, home alone. My parents were kidknapped by the skinheads- gone two days now- I was sure I'd have to worry about that soon, but for now… I leaned in, framing her face with my hands. I could smell her perfume, her shampoo, see all the little cracks in her lips under the gloss which just made her look more human, more desirable.

God, I wanted to kiss her.

But, something occurred to me. What if I missed? Or, what if my lips were chapped or my breath was bad- I had no way of knowing…it had been a long time since I'd done anything like this. And she had experience (partners- lots of boys, and maybe a girl or two…Wendy was always good at getting what she wanted)- points of reference she'd be comparing me to the entire time. I couldn't do this. She'd hate me if I ruined it…

She had her eyes closed expectantly. Oh God, if I _didn't_ do this, I'd be ruining it just the same…but, what could I do? I couldn't make myself more forward, but I couldn't just pussy out again! I felt sick!

…

**BROFLOVSKI **

"Genetically speaking, the Ginger gene, or red hair gene appears in people who have two copies of the recessive allele that encodes a mutant form of the melanocortin 1 receptor (MC1R) protein. The mutation renders the MC1R protein useless. This protein regulates the production of various forms of skin and hair pigment melanin. There are over sixty different mutations that can cause the various grades of red-ginger hair, often accompanied by pale skin, freckles, and proneness to sunburn.

"In conclusion, red hair is what you get when you have no functioning MC1R at all. It is very rare in humans, found in less than one percent of the world's population, and is _not_, I repeat, _**not**_ a disease." I tapped my paper on the desk with a smug expression. I'd like to see the fat lard come back at _that_. His argument was invalid anyway…

He stood up, slamming his pudgy fists on his desk. "Would you call Autism a disease? What about sickle cell anemia? The prefix "dis" is synonymous with "un", and "ease"? …well I think we all know what that means?" he addressed the class. "The word disease means literally "unease" or "discomfort" just like the Gingers are a disease as well as all other redheads, people from New Jersey, and Jews. All of these peoples cause discomfort to the people around them, making them feel awkward and unsure of how they should interact with them. So, what do you have to say for yourself Kahl?"

"I am _**not**_ a fucking _**disease **_Cartman!"

"Language Kyle!" Mr. Garrison snapped.

"He's calling me a _disease_!"

"Just don't use profanity to make your point!"

Cartman put his hand up to wave it off, "It's quite alright Mr. Garrison. It just proves that Kyle has nothing left to say. His feeble mind is just struggling to put his emotions into words by using vulgar language." He smiled like the little fucking angel his twisted perverse brain had made him believe he was. I hate that fat swine!

I sighed, he was going to make me be a smartass again wasn't he? "CARTMAN! YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" I yelled. He turned his attention to me, where it rightfully belonged.

I began, "The dictionary definition of the word disease is as follows: 'a disordered or incorrectly functioning organ, part, structure, or system of _the body_ resulting from the effect of genetic or developmental errors, infection, poisons, nutritional deficiency or imbalance, toxicity, or unfavorable environmental factors; illness; sickness; ailment.' A disease is something physical. You couldn't call embarrassment or confusion a disease just because it makes you uncomfortable. Likewise, _people_ can't be a disease just because they make you uncomfortable. So…there." I shrugged.

Butters began clapping. "W-wow…Kyle that was amazing!"

"Someone search and make sure his facts are straight!" Cartman yelled, slamming a fat paw onto his desk and standing.

This kid doesn't give up… I sighed and took out my phone. "You can use mine and get on internet, or if you think I might have rigged the _internet_ because I'm a Jew and therefore have magic powers or something ridiculous like that, than feel free to use someone else's."

"Well, you are the only one who could negotiate with the internet…" he said slowly. But, he did as I said, and frowned when he read the first few definitions. But, by the time he got to the part about social diseases, he grinned and immediately started ranting. But, by this point; I'd won over every jury member on the debate team. I zoned him out and just took my seat. "Ha! Kyle forfeits his rebuttal!" Cartman cried, pointing at me and laughing.

Moses! He pissed me off so bad! "I don't _need_ a rebuttal, Cartman. You're an idiot." I turned to the jury, "I formally yield my time."

…

After school, I walked back home with Stan and Kenny, our steps pacing together comfortably. Cartman's house was in the opposite direction (thank God). I never could understand how he convinced himself that we actually _liked_ him.

"I can't believe you memorized the dictionary definition of "disease"…" Stan said, shaking his head in disbelief. Whether his disbelief was positive or negative was left unsaid.

"It helped prove my point, didn't it?"

"Everyone agreed with you from the beginning anyway. Cartman never stands much of a chance. Everything he argues is bigoted …"

"That's never stopped him from convincing people to agree with him," I muttered bitterly. Stan just shrugged in acquiescence- knowing Cartman well himself. "Besides, Cartman is never going to stop until someone shows him up for good. I'm the only one who's capable of it," I said seriously.

That just earned a withering look from both Kenny and Stan. "Wendy could," Stan suggested, and I had to give that consideration. Wendy could (and often did) destroy Cartman in debate. But, Cartman always found a way to convince himself that _he'd_ won just because she was a girl.

"Cartman won't accept Wendy's victories." I gave half a shrug, "He accepts mine- with proper motivation," –like a fist to the throat.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose the way he always did when we disagreed on something. "Kyle, you've been saying you'd tame Cartman for years. It hasn't happened yet. Face it, he's incased himself in so much fat that every punch is just going to bounce right off him…"

"I can't just give up hope-" I began, but Kenny cut me off to tell us he was leaving. We waved to him as he walked inside the McCormick's shack. Stan and I pressed on in silence for a minute before I got back to what I was saying. "If I believe that Cartman will never stop and leave him alone, than what else would he live for? If he's not fighting me, he'll find other targets. He might actually cause some real harm…"

"Fighting constantly with Cartman, that's got to get tiring…" Stan said sympathetically. "Cartman's a fat bitch."

"It's not bad. I mean, it's entertaining. And, see that 'fat bitch' comment is why I'm glad you're my best friend, Stan. Seriously, no one else could say that with so much honesty."

"Because we know him better than everyone else."

"And _that's_ because no one else _wants_ to know him."

"As if _we_ want to?" he reasoned.

"Point."

"Seriously, why does he always come crawling back to us?"

"Maybe we should kill him in his sleep?" I suggested hopefully.

"But, we might be arrested…"

"Don't be such a pussy, Stan."

"While this conversation's been fun, I've got to go," he said calmly. We were standing in his driveway now. I hadn't even realized we were here. "My parents have been abducted by a white supremacy gang, so the house is all mine until we decide to go rescue them."

I chuckled, elbowing him in the ribs, "Gonna call _Wendy~_ over?" I said lewdly.

"Stop being such a sex-addict," he teased.

"Shut up, dude! I'm only a porn addict; I'm not into the actual action…for myself."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're monogamous-" he grinned at me for a second, and I could feel the punchline coming before it even left his lips, "with your right hand."

I smacked the back of his head. "I jerk left-handed!" I lied- just for a good comeback. "You know I'm asexual." I lied again- really, I was just turned away from the idea of sex after…after what I did to that innocent little girl. "I haven't even _liked_ anyone since fourth grade and that was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Ah…yeah…Rebecca. Didn't you turn her into a whore or something?" he said apathetically.

"Shut up…" I said voice clipped. The last thing I wanted to hear about was _her_.

Rebecca Cotswold had ruined my social life ever since she'd come to public high school. Not that I cared much for a "social life", but the rumors were really painful. It wasn't that _she_ started them, but there were some people who had tried to explain the extreme change in the girl after she'd met me. There were some pretty harsh and lewd stories about me. I was only nine! I mean fuck!

The rumors would've faded eventually- if she hadn't come back to school. She had invited me to stay with her family in a country villa over the summer before freshman year. I accepted. I figured that, if the Cotswalds were thinking of coming back to public school, maybe I could give them some advice, prepare them a little for the social jungle they were entering. It would be good for everyone since I needed to brace _myself_ for high school as well. I chose to forgive Rebecca for the trouble she'd caused me in elementary school. By then, it had been such a long time ago- water under the bridge. So I came for one night…in which Rebecca kissed me, licking into my mouth and rubbing a hand over my crotch. She tried to talk me into having sex with her for 'science'.

I had demanded to be driven home late that night.

By the time school started after that summer, she had already had two pill-abortions. She came into high school and solicited sexual knowledge from half the freshman class within two months. By the end of the first grading quarter, everyone knew her as the resident cockslut, a name which Wendy protested endlessly on her behalf. And, everyone knew that _I_ was the start of it- that somehow, I had gotten her started on this self-destructive path.

I insisted that I was a virgin. Still, most of the school believed I'd stolen her innocence and must have beaten her or something to make her lose all her self-respect.

It had done emotional damage as well as social damage. I couldn't _allow_ myself to date. The one and _only_ time that I'd ever kissed someone of my own will, I'd made her obsessed with kissing. The one and _only_ time I'd let someone else lick into my mouth, they had demanded sex- then sought it from everyone. Somehow, I'd corrupted Rebecca. Something like that couldn't happen again. I couldn't just go around turning all the girls I knew into 'sluts'… This was a dangerous, terrible power I possessed (no matter how much Kenny disagreed).

At this point, I was considering just talking to her…I was sure she'd understand what her actions were costing me. It was making me un-dateable. Not that I was into that sort of thing (she'd single-handedly changed my opinions on the matter).

I walked in the back door and up through the garage. Ike was already home, working on his homework while watching the news. "Hey Ike," I said, ruffling his hair as I walked past. He growled a response, but I didn't really listen. I went up to my room and put in my headphones so I could start working on my history project about Coca-Cola.

...

**MARSH**

"I'm…sorry, Wendy. I can't do it," I said, defeated. I'd tried so hard. We had the house all to ourselves, we were in tenth grade- plenty old enough, and I couldn't do _anything_. I was pitiful.

She frowned. "Stan, do you really love me?" she said, voice edging on heartbroken.

"Ah, ah…" I moaned frustrated. "Wendy, don't pull that card!"

"What card? It was a question!"

"I mean, don't think that, since I can't kiss you, I don't love you!" I pleaded.

"Then what _does_ it mean? Is there someone else? Stan, I'm not going to be angry if you've fallen for someone else and this is your way of telling me. But, you haven't cheated on me have you?"

"Oh my _God_, Wendy!" I said, grabbing her thin shoulders. Her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears. I knew I would hurt her, I _knew_ I'd fuck it up. "I'm not saying I don't love you, and I'm not saying that there's _anyone_ else! There's _never_ been anyone else! I've loved you since third grade! I just…I'm afraid of messing up."

She smiled and bit her lip. "I love you too, Stan. Seriously, what other guy would say something like _that_? I'm really lucky." She leaned forward and tried to catch my lips in hers. I leaned back compulsively and she fell forward into my lap. "STAN!" she yelled, frustrated.

"I wasn't ready!" I cried.

"Stan, loosen up. I'm not going to hate you if you're a bad kisser. Making out is one of those skills that you can learn…" she said, trying to sound comforting. Maybe it would've worked on someone else.

"Well, how would _you_ know? Been making out with anyone lately?" I huffed.

"Stan!" she snapped, furiously.

"Well, don't take this the wrong way, but it's not like you've always been just _mine_," I huffed. "You break up with me at least three times a year. And, whenever you do, I'm always a wreck and you're always with someone else." I was really just complaining. She had every right to move on when we were broken up, but it _really_ bothered me that she could do that so easily. It was like it didn't hurt her at all! "And then…that last time-" I cut myself off. It was too dangerous to talk about how fucked up I'd been the last time. She'd never forgive me if she knew how I'd hurt myself.

"Stan! You can't expect me to just wallow in remorse for breaking up with you! Every time I broke up with you, I had a _good_ reason! You can't expect me to just be an object you can _possess_! You don't _own_ me!"

"I'm not saying that, it just bugs me that you can get over me so easily. Shouldn't it bother you a little bit? Isn't there a statue of limitations or something that says you can't date a different guy within two days of breaking up with the last one?"

"Are you saying you doubt _my_ faithfulness?" she demanded, standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

Oh no…we were going downhill, I could feel gravity pulling. I had to measure my words from here on, this was thin ice. "I'm not trying to say that at all…I'm just saying that you could _try_ to miss me next time?"

"Of course I missed you when we broke up! It's not like I didn't love you enough to get upset over the break-up! _You're_ the one who doesn't love me enough to kiss me properly! We're fifteen! Couples that've been in as long as we have are _fucking_ at our age!"

"Don't bring that into this!" I snapped. I got to my own feet. She was being impatient, forcing me to her pace, and I was getting pissed, so I brought out her worst. "You never even answered my original question! Who did you make out with?"

She frowned, crossing her arms and huffing at me. Her cheeks were turning red with anger. "Who did you expect?! Token!"

I folded my arms over my chest, "And after that?" I demanded.

She huffed, fists clenching and jaw locking in defiance. "Lucas."

"The senior!" I jolted, shocked.

"Then Matthew, Bethany, Jake, and Craig."

"Oh my God, _Craig_?!" I groaned, stuck in disbelief. Who the fuck cared that Wendy had made out with a girl? …she'd kissed _Craig_.

"It's not like _you_ wanted to be my first or anything!"

"Of course I did! I thought we were saving that for each other!" I cried. "I thought we promised that!"

"Well, if you still mean that promise, than kiss me now!"

"Well, now I don't want to!"

"Good! I bet you suck at it anyway!"

"Hey!" I wanted to shove her, but I held off.

"I can't believe you! You're so unreasonable! Why can't you just kiss me? Am I repulsive to you?" she yelled. We were practically in a screaming fight. Why did this always happen?

"Well you're being pretty unattractive right now!" I yelled.

"Why? Because I'm standing up for myself?" she demanded. "I didn't know it was unattractive for a girl to have a bit of independence!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. She was right- she had every right to kiss other people, and I shouldn't be jealous. But, I was getting a headache. I took a breath and fought down my irrational anger. "Wendy, I love that you're strong and feminist, but I just can't _kiss_ you. I don't know why." That was a lie… "I need you to give me _time_. I'm going to keep trying because you're my girlfriend."

"Not anymore," she said, glaring at me intensely.

My head shot up, "W-wha-?"

"I'm done with this! You've been _trying_ for _seven years_! I can't wait for you forever!" With that, she stormed out of the room, leaving me in the dust. I stared after her, watching the dust settle back to the ground and cringing when I heard the door slam shut.

I sat there quietly for a minute, waiting for the impact when this would finally hit me. It always took a minute…just give it a second…wait for it… "AHAHHHHAAAAA NOOOO WWEHENEEEEDDDYYY! PLEASEPLAASE IMSORRYPLEASE DON'T LEAVE!" I collapsed onto the floor.

I needed to get to the phone…


	2. Friends and Crysis

**BROVFLOVSKI**

"_For generations, Coca-Cola has been a symbol of America. It has grown up with the country. The drink itself is nothing more than carbonated water, sugar, and a few other ingredients. In fact, the drink is ninety-five percent carbonated water. However, the marketing strategies have implanted an image of home and good times into those who consume the soft drink. Coca-Cola has influenced the image of America and the way companies all over the world advertise their products…_"

The paper sounded _alright_ thus far. Not my best work, but it had to be ten pages long, so it wasn't going to be _great._ I carefully picked at my lower lip, peeling away the dry skin from the cold weather snap.

What was Stan doing right now? How far Wendy would let him go…or would she have to control their pace? Would he chicken out again? Would her touch feel warm or would it burn like fire? God, what if he really liked it? I hoped he wouldn't give me all the details afterschool the next day. I might have to sneak in some headphones if he did. It was too gross to think about.

"LETS WATCH THIS CITY BURN THE WORLD…LET'S WATCH IT BURN…" I jumped, nearly falling off my desk chair. Hollywood Undead? I righted myself and scrambled too my backpack, digging in the front pocket. "LETS WATCH IT BURN…" Ipod…gum…tictacs…ah, phone!

"Hello?" I said, training my voice to sound placid.

"Idungetdetkahl! Whydoesshehateme? Ididnmeanthat and sheknowsthatireally lubher moredan anything!"

"Hi Stan…" I said. "Wendy?"

"Shejust walkoutan Idununderstandkahl! Ijustcouldntdoit!"

I sighed, "So…Wendy," I answered myself. He was hiccupping between strings of unintelligible syllables. That could only mean one thing. "I'll be right over," I said calmly, stacking my papers up and repacking them into my backpack. I could finish my homework at his place, or I'd just do it in the morning.

It was a bit nippy outside so I grabbed my hat, gloves, and jacket. I walked down the street and rang his doorbell. I waited a few minutes, but he _apparently_ was unable to _walk_ because he was so stricken with grief. I knew where they hid the key…and I took my time getting it out.

Two months ago, all this was done in a whirlwind. Lungs burning on thin cold air as my bare feet carried me over ice, faster than I'd ever run in my entire life, crashing into someone's frozen flower beds as I flew into the snow on Stan's front yard and to their key, fumbling at the lock. I hadn't bothered with Stan's bedroom door- I kicked that down.

Two months ago, I almost lost my best friend because he doesn't know how to swallow his heart back down when someone hands it back to him. Wendy hadn't wanted it anymore, and it nearly killed him. It wasn't her fault really; she didn't know how the break up would affect him. She _still_ didn't know why the ambulances had been dispatched to Stan's house that night. No one did- but me and his parents. I shuddered at the thought.

I unlocked the front door and let myself inside, expecting to find Stan lying on the floor somewhere crying like a normal heartbroken teenage boy. I checked the ground floor, but he wasn't scarfing down cookie dough in the kitchen or sniffling on the couch in the living room, or even puking his lunch out in the toilet.

So he wasn't on the ground floor where he _should_ be. So he was up in his room- where he'd nearly killed himself. So what? It was going to be okay. It was all going to be fine. No need to panic. I clenched my fists and clung to the theory: Stan had _called_ me this time- just like he'd promised in that hospital bed after the last break up, scared straight after his little 'encounter with God'. He had actually swallowed down his macho pride and called for help, so I worked down the tightness around my lungs. The fact that he'd called me meant this time would be different.

Sure enough, I walked upstairs to his door and it was gloriously unlocked, moved easily under my hand- the door wasn't even _closed_. I let out a breath I'd been holding and turned on the light. A giant lump tucked under the covers on Stan's bed shifted irritably, curling in on itself when the light came in under the barrier. A muffled moan was emitted. Seeing the motion of it drew the tension from every muscle in my body. Stan wasn't comatose, surrounded by beer cans, trying to off himself into an alcoholic coma, wrists bleeding on a broken bottle.

"Stan?" I said hesitantly, padding carefully to the edge of the bed and sitting beside the pitiful lump that was my best friend. "Hey, Stan, are you alright?"

He sniffled and let me pull the blankets away. I smiled at his raw face, eyes tightening with pride that he was allowing me to see this vulnerability- that he'd invited me in, and I leaned in to brush his hair away from his eyes. He was frowning miserably, cheeks and nose- pink and swollen from crying. He wasn't really trying to hide it and I was so glad about that I could've kissed him- if, of course, he wouldn't've hated me for it.

I scooted closer and flipped him over so he lay on his back. I'd forced my way into his room to handle this situation at least three times before, and this was a mild case. In a few seconds he'd begin mumbling about how he thought it was for good this time.

"Shewasserous! Shehatesmeforgoodnow…" he cried, gripping his head and knotting his fingers in his thick, messy black hair. "ItsoverKahl…"…he was right on cue today.

"Stop crying, Stan. When you cry you call me Kahl, and it makes you sound like Cartman." I carefully took his hands and pulled his fingers away from his hair before he ripped it out. A moment later, his hands had found their way around my back to claw at my shoulders. I allowed it and gently petted his hair until he'd calmed down enough to talk normally. It took about five minutes, and my muscles were cramping from the awkward angle I had chosen- then decided to hold for fear of moving too much while Stan shook with sobs and clung to my chest.

His voice still cracked when he spoke, "Kyle, ah- …thanks for coming over on such short notice." The words seemed to be stabbing his throat on the way up with how tense they sounded.

It wouldn't be wise to admit that I'd been planning on coming over just past midnight to check in on him anyway. If I told him that, he'd ask questions which could eventually lead to him finding out that I'd been checking in every time he met with Wendy ever since the last break up. Even though it was me and Stan, and we'd saved each other's lives a million times, it still felt like I was being a little creepy and over-protective about it.

"It's fine. My parents don't mind as long as it's just you," I said easily. "They hate Cartman and Craig though." I shrugged. He propped himself up onto his elbows and sniffled. His eyes were growing pink again and welling up. I reached over, covering my thumb in my sleeve, and dabbed away the liquid. "Are you alright?"

"It's for good this time Kyle…"

I took my hand away from his face and rested it on his shoulder, holding firm. "You say that every time…"

"No, I'm serious."

"You say that too," I noted.

"But, I don't know if I _want_ her back…" From the sound of longing in his voice, he _wanted_ her back. "I don't know if I can keep dealing with the heartbreak."

I sighed, having seen that myself. I didn't think I could ever understand how someone could love as powerfully as Stan loved Wendy. How would it feel to have that kind of emotion directed towards you? It had to be intense. She was lucky.

Stan was a mess right now- could use a shower, or at least wash his face. He had probably marched straight up here after Wendy left his parents' house…wait… "Hey, where are your parents?" I wondered aloud.

"Skinheads stole them," he said offhandedly. "I'll help them eventually…"

"What! The skinheads took your parents!" I shouted, launching myself backwards and into motion, "We have to get them back!"

"Come on, Kyle. Not now, I'm not up for any adventures right now. I'm so confused…" he frowned at the wall. "I know I love her, but all she ever does it hurt me…it's like I want her, but I'm afraid to have her."

I glanced at his ipod. "Dude…you're listening to a song called "I lost her"? Come on, you've gotta pull yourself together," I said, punching his arm lightly, not really knowing what else to say.

"I don't know what to do Kyle! I love her! I want her back…"

"There, you just gave yourself your answer. You want her back, so try to _get_ her back," I said calmly. What was so complicated about that?

"How can you say it like it's that simple?!"

"Because it is."

"No! She'll have a new boyfriend by tomorrow, and she'll have completely forgotten about me. I don't think I can handle being with her and knowing that she wants other people."

I shook my head. "Then don't _be_ with her," I said, shoulders tensing. I knew the answer this suggestion always got.

"There's no one else!" And, he was crying again, bypassing my chest and falling right for my lap, burying his face between my knees. After I found him passed out, wrists cut, and so drunk he was unconsciously choking on vomit, there really was no humility left to be had for him whenever I came into the picture. I guess it was a good thing if it got him to call me and prevent a repeat. But, it also gave me a stark picture of reality when it came to Stan's mind. "I'm a piece of shit," he sobbed. "I'm just-…ah, I'm fucking shit, Kyle. God…I just-…I need her- but she…but she can do better…she could-…ah, shit…" he kept drifting off until he gave up his explanation and wrapped himself around my waist, a warm heavy pressure around my stomach, shaking and squeezing- not painfully constricting, not like the implication behind what he was saying.

Glancing around the room, there were tissues strewn all over the floor and candy wrappers. It had only been an hour since I'd talked to him in the street. God, he pigged-out like a heartbroken little girl…then puked it out as soon as he'd realized how much he ate. I needed to say _something_ to boost his morale.

"Stan, hey, don't think of yourself like that…okay? Please don't." I folded over him where he was hugged into my lap, "You're smart and funny and loyal and I love you. You've always respected my opinions, and I think you're perfect." The words poured easily and honestly. I didn't bother to filter them. "Wendy was so lucky to have you. You're always dedicated to her, and you're attractive and faithful and you put her first. You deserve to be with whomever you want."

Stan stilled, and his grip tightened briefly, his legs curling up next to my hip to make the awkward embrace more complete. He didn't say anything for a long moment, and when he did it was just a groan- just, "Mm, Kyle," and he went quiet again, pulled away from me completely and snuggled back down under his comforter.

The silence grew tangible after a minute. "Um…can I bring you anything from downstairs?" I offered. "You want something to eat or do you want me to bring up the Xbox? We could play some Crysis…"

"No…I just sort of want you to stay here."

"Alright…" I said, staring. He didn't say anything more, so after a moment, I flattened out the bed sheets and kicked off my shoes, bringing my feet up onto the mattress and sitting, stretched out next to him. "Well, do you wanna talk or just sit here?"

"I…need a hug."

"You just gave me one," I pointed out, not really turning him down, just raising the facts.

"A _real_ one. You know, your special hugs?"

I sighed, "If you weren't in love with Wendy, I'd swear you're totally gay for me," I said calmly.

"Oh, I _totally_ am. You're frizzy jew-fro, braces, glasses, and all; the whole package. Now bring it in…" he said, holding his arms out invitingly. He was still frowning, but at least he _sounded_ more like himself.

I smiled vaguely, so thankful that Stan wasn't drunk this time- he's a mean drunk. "You just had to bring out the glasses and braces?" I whined, leaning in and embracing him nonetheless. He was warm and I could feel how firm and thin he was under his tee shirt. It was part of what made him attractive to everyone- that he was in shape. I knew he worked out, and watched his weight, but it made me a bit jealous. Maybe I should do some crunches before bed or something…

"Are you spending the night?" he said hopefully.

"It's a school night…" I reminded him.

"So? You're parents've let us do it before…"

"Alright, let me text my dad and ask…he's usually cooler about this stuff." I moved to leave his arms and go for my phone, but he hugged tighter. "Dude…I'll just be gone a second," I said, patting the back of his head.

I hated it when he was like this; a kicked puppy. It was so out of his usual character. He was so needy and fragile. I'd thought he was feeling better when he'd cracked sarcastic jokes about my appearance, but he wasn't fully there yet. Why did Wendy have this kind of effect on the guy? It would've been better if had that much control over him.

He released me and let me walk over to my backpack and send a short message explaining that Stan was having relationship troubles and needed comfort. Dad was overly-sensitive and shit like that, so he'd get it.

I set the phone down on the bedside table and turned back to Stan. He was crying again. "I shouldn't have accused her of not loving me… But, she gets over me so quickly!" he moaned into his pillow- then pushed himself up and off the bed, only to fall forward onto me.

I blinked as I caught him. I wasn't built to carry someone my own size, though he was maybe an inch shorter, and I tried to warn him so, "Stan! Fuck, Stan wai-", but he just gripped onto my shoulders and we toppled over onto the floor.

"Stan! Will you pull yourself together?!"

He sobbed into my chest, gripping my jacket tightly. "What if she really _doesn't_ love me? She's told Token she loves him too…she can't love two people!" he cried. He was going into that stage of crying where you start wheezing instead of breathing, so I didn't bother to correct him- Wendy could, very well, love two people at once.

He was starting to get my coat dirty. It made me feel bad to see him like this. "Alright, uppsies, Stan…" I said gently, treating him like he was a little kid. He was sure acting like one…

He was barely any assistance in getting us back up onto his bed. It felt like I was carrying him, and he was totally letting me. I rubbed his back comfortingly and tried to position us against his headboard so I could let him sit in my lap and cry into my jacket, but I could still sit comfortably.

It was an awkward position considering headboards aren't exactly constructed for that purpose. But, what else are friends for if not a shoulder to cry on?


	3. To get her back

**BROFLOVSKI**

It didn't take Stan long to fall asleep while still clinging to me. Crying could be exhausting, and Stan always affirmed that I gave the best hugs and he could just sit there forever in my arms (yes, he's _that_ gay), but falling asleep there was a bit odd.

Seeing as how I'd be there for awhile, I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. Unfortunately, Stan was a light sleeper. Usually I wouldn't care if I woke him up, but he probably wasn't going to go back to sleep if I woke him up now. So, moving him was out of the question. Instead, I sunk further down into the sheets and rested my head on top of his. It wasn't much better, but it would have to work. I could fall asleep just about anywhere anyway.

...

**MARSH**

I woke up slowly due to some sort of pressure on my head… My eyes didn't want to open. I just wanted to sleep. It was so comfortable, and my limbs so heavy, like waking up early on a Sunday morning and staying late in bed- because I could…I held there for a few minutes, drifting in and out of consciousness until subconscious curiosity pulled me awake. I lifted my heavy eyelids to see someone's chin. What?

I sat up, craning my neck and peering up to my best friend- his arms still wrapped around my back. I'd fallen asleep while he was trying to comfort me? Wow…I was such an asshole. That position looked _really_ uncomfortable. His head lolled off to one side when I'd removed mine from under it. Between his hold around me and one of my own arms crushed under a pillow, I couldn't pull up off him. But, I did have one hand free, curled importunately around his chest. "You're going to wake up with one hell of a crick," I muttered, pushing his head upright with my palm. It lolled back comically as soon as I let it go, his mouth falling open a little- a noisy breath tumbling out from the disturbance. I chuckled quietly, "Well, you're one lucky bastard aren't you?" I laughed. "It's a good thing you're a heavy sleeper and I'm an asshole whose arm fell asleep."

I tugged at said arm under his back. To no avail. There was only one option. Kyle had come over here for me- because I asked him to…because I trusted him explicitly, so I had to be nice. He made it easy; Kyle was _always_ a heavy sleeper. I got up on my knees and pulled hard, lifting him from the headboard. Backing up on my knees, I shifted my legs down on the bed first then carefully tugged his unconscious form under the blankets. It was a bit more difficult than I expected, considering he was still clinging to me impulsively- uncoordinated and stupid as it probably looked, I managed to get us both under the covers by sort of shimmying down a bit myself then pulling him down- a give and take kinda thing. He mumbled some sort of protest at being moved and pouted.

I snuggled back into his chest once we were properly situated. Kyle was so comfortable. He'd gone through an initial growth spurt in eighth grade, and it still hadn't quite ended. He was skinny, but not gaunt, and he didn't have any fat, but he wasn't muscular. He was respectably tall and had broad shoulders. He was just right to give perfect hugs.

I know that sounds _extremely_ gay, but it's totally true! Plus, nothing was ever awkward with Kyle because _Kyle_ was never awkward. He could walk up to a girl and ask her to fuck him with absolutely no hesitation. (Not that he would do that) he was much too sensitive and empathetic for it- not to mention asexual. But, he was perfect to talk to since he was always so level-headed about everything but Cartman. He was the unbiased third party and could tell when it was _me_ being the jackass or if I was in the right.

I was dozing off again. Kyle's familiar scent and the way he was holding me instinctively made me feel like everything was going to be okay, even if I _never_ got Wendy back.

Maybe it _wasn't_ going to be so bad to be single. _Kyle_ had been single for six years now. He seemed happy enough. Maybe just focusing on my friends would be easier. I certainly wouldn't have to listen to all Wendy's problems all the time.

I fell back to sleep easily.

…

In the morning, my alarm clock woke me up at seven. The bus would be there in an hour, so I sat up without further protest, rubbing my head. I wasn't just going to stay at home and miss school because Wendy broke up with me. I'd learned first-hand how hard it is to make up work when I did that.

I carefully pried Kyle's arms off me and tapped the alarm. "Kyle, wake up," I said loudly. He didn't respond, so I resorted to shaking him roughly. He mumbled something, slapped my hand away, and rolled over. I huffed, planning on just leaving him if he was going to be a bitch about waking up- until I realized he was drooling on my pillow. "Oh, SICK dude! Get OFF!" I yelled, shoving him over until he fell off the other side onto the floor with a pained "oof!"

"What the hell, Stan?!" he demanded angrily, sitting up and rubbing his arm where he had fallen. His had had peeled off in the process of my shimmying us into the bed the night before, and his hair was even _more_ ruffled than normal.

Between the sight of his big curly hair and the dark glare he was giving, my mood improved greatly. "Take my shower. We've got to start getting ready for school. It's Friday," I replied.

"Mm…" he grunted, one hand coming up to rub sleep from his eyes.

I left him sitting, legs curled awkwardly on my floor, face pressed into the side of my mattress and eyes drooping, and I went to my parents' bedroom. I took my shower in there and left Kyle to his own devices- he'd wake himself up in ten minutes or so and scramble through his morning. It's how he prepped. He spent the night so often that he probably had clothes somewhere in my house. If not, we were about the same size so he could just wear some of mine.

I got downstairs just a few minutes before him and took out some cereal boxes. I'd sat down with my bowl when Kyle came downstairs wearing a pair of my jeans and one of my shirts. A towel was wrapped around his head and his glasses in hand. He always looked so much better without his glasses, but he fucked up his eyes in middle school on the computer and was now extremely far-sighted- he had to wear them all the time. It was criminal.

I didn't say a word as he came down, but I held up two boxes of cereal, Captain Crunch and Lucky Charms.

"Charms," Kyle answered, and I pushed a bowl and spoon across the counter at him, the spoon swirling around the bowl once he'd caught it. He perched on one of the chairs at the counter and reached over for the box of Lucky Charms, setting it next to him on the table while he took the towel off his head and laid it back on his chair. His hair was too wet to be big and fluffy, so it just kinda hung like a mop around his neck. "Are you sure you're up to going to school today?" he said, "I wouldn't be impartial to skipping…"

"Naw…I can't run from my problems, and I always have issues catching myself back up." He frowned at me, as if that wasn't the answer he'd wanted. "Oh, suck it up," I said, rolling my eyes. "You would've had to go if you'd stayed at home." Jeez, shouldn't he be _congratulating_ me for being strong?

He just ate silently.

...

**BROFLOVSKI**

Stan liked to eat in silence, so I had plenty of time to think while we scarfed down cereal. I knew that I'd have to help Stan with his problems and get him and Wendy back together soon enough. It was usually an extensive and time-consuming process involving a lot of tedious negotiation. So, I wanted to get my _own_ problems out of the way before he asked for help.

After breakfast, we slung our backpacks over our shoulders and headed out the door. It was a pretty good walk to the bus stop, and it was already light outside. People were in their front yards watering the plants since we hadn't had rain in awhile and the weather was getting warmer.

"Hey Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember Rebecca?"

"She goes to our school, how could I forget her? What about her?" he asked.

I frowned, was there really anything he could do to help? _I_ didn't even know how I wanted to approach this yet. I figured that talking to her directly was the best way. But, she could be so hard to communicate with. She was the _smartest_ girl I'd ever met, but she was also socially challenged…

"Nothing…" I muttered. He glanced at me, concerned. I just waved it off.

He just shrugged, "Alright dude, if you can't tell me, I'll just assume you fucked her again…" he teased unsmilingly. He'd had to hear my complaints about the rumors for years, and right not was probably not the time he wanted to hear me talk about my problems, but that wasn't an excuse.

"Oh my God, Stan, don't be a fucking asshole about her!" I yelled, shoving him. "You know I _never_ fucked-!" I suddenly had to shut my eyes as water sprayed me all over. I flailed, nearly knocking over Stan and falling over onto the pavement. I heard the sound of hysterically laughing children and I was suddenly extremely angry. "Who's using fucking water hose? It's under forty degrees out here!" I shouted, royally pissed off.

"That would be me," A deep voice said sternly.

I glanced up. "Oh…shit…" I muttered. "Good morning Corporal Frank…" I mumbled.

"And good morning to you Mr. Broflovski. Do you _know_ why I sprayed you with my waterhose?"

"Because you're an asshole…" Stan muttered, beyond the reach of his ears. I elbowed him just for good measure. Corporal Frank already hated me and I didn't like to have an ex Navy Officer on my bad side. Plus, his daughter was seriously hot.

"Um…I'm sorry, I don't know what I was doing," I said, trying to be as polite as possible. He just sprayed me again, in the face. I spluttered and Stan tried to pull me out of the way since it was splashing him too. We were scrambling and freezing and soaking wet. God damnit.

"I'M PUNISHING YOU FOR SPREADING YOUR VULGARITY TO THE AIR WHERE MY CHILDREN PLAY!" he screamed in my face. I backed up nervously.

Stan stepped forward protectively. "Hey, you can't just freeze people to death because you're an over-protective parent!" he yelled, earning the same treatment I was getting. He gurgled as water filled his mouth. His fists balled up. "Goddamit…" he muttered.

It was the most active I'd seen him all day. Protecting me was the only thing that ever seemed to get him out of his slum. I put a hand on his soaked shoulder, "You tried. Let's just leave it."

He continued spraying us as we walked down the street the rest of the way. "Maybe we should've walked a different way to the bus," Stan said, defeated.

"Thanks Captain Hindsight," I said sarcastically, shivering a little. I _hated_ Corporal Frank, and he hated me. I couldn't understand why, but he did. "I don't get that man. What did _I_ ever do to _him_?"

"It might have something to do with the fact that his daughter stares at us every morning as we walk past," Stan answered.

"You mean hot Becca?" I wondered aloud. "_She_ watches _us_?" Becca was this busty Blonde girl who Kenny had been trying to woo since the family had moved here. She always shrugged him off, making an excuse about how she had to do schoolwork.

"With a hunger," Stan confirmed.

"Hm…" I couldn't understand why she would watch _me_, but Stan wasn't bad-looking. He always had this way of wearing his features really well, holding his brows just right to give his eyes, blue eyes, a certain intensity of emotion- to any situation; he held his head up like royalty, could cock his jaw to say eight million things without speaking a word. Besides just that there was the thick messy black hair, thin face, and broad shoulders. He was admittedly attractive.

I was even a bit jealous of it. I'd never much cared about my appearance (except that one time that I thought I was voted ugliest in the class, but anyone would be upset about that). The concept of dating had been made superficial in my mind. I don't know if it was because I was liked by people I couldn't feel the same about, or if it was because I was never liked by the people I thought I liked. Either way, it just never happened for me.

Because of this, I never worried about my appearance. So, my hair was still frizzy, I liked to slouch, I had braces and glasses. I dressed comfortably, not fashionably. I wasn't physically _attractive_ and it didn't bother me. I had friends and they had to like me for my personality.

In conclusion, she must be staring at Stan- which was good. Maybe _she_ could help him get over Wendy. "You should ask her out!" I encouraged, nudging him with my elbow again- gently this time.

"What!" he cried, voice cracking.

"Definitely. She's hot, man. You two would look so good together!"

"Hell no! Wendy _just_ broke up with me!"

"E_xac_tly," I cooed. "If you started going out with hot Becca so soon after she broke up with you, it'll drive Wendy insane!"

He stopped walking, eyes focusing somewhere into the distance. He was silent for a moment. "You think so?" he said a minute later, staring at me like I was a genius.

"Definitely! I mean, it drives you _crazy_ when she gets with Token right after you break up, doesn't it?" I reasoned. "If love is rough with you, be rough with love." I gave him an encouraging grin. I wanted this to work out for them. Stan was only happy when Wendy was his girlfriend.

By the time we got on the bus, I had Stan convinced. He was grinning, and even seeing Cartman's fat face couldn't seem to wear him down. I smiled and patted his back. He was going to get his girlfriend back, and I was going to get my best friend back.


	4. Nothing Awkward

**MARSH**

If Wendy felt _half_ the pain that I felt when I saw _her_ with Token, then she'd be at my knees within seconds of seeing me and Becca. Kyle's was a freaking relationship _genius_. I could kiss him! But, that would totally be gay. I mean, now I wouldn't have to convince myself I didn't need her.

We got on the bus, grinning in our cleverness and took our usual seat in the back. "Hey, Jew!" we heard Cartman's obnoxious voice from across the bus. He waddled through the middle aisle to come to where we were sitting (somehow, he only got stuck once).

"What do you want fat pig?" Kyle said coldly.

"Ey! I'm big-boned you fucking Jewrat!"

"Cartman, why did you come back here?" I asked calmly- the more Kyle got pissed, the longer Cartman would stay.

"Oh yeah!" Cartman said as if he'd forgotten that quickly. "So, _Kahl_…we get back the results from yesterday's debate today~" he teased. "Would you like to make a wager on the matter?"

"I'd be forty bucks that no one voted for you!" Kyle snapped.

"Um…Kyle," I pleaded. Forty dollars was a lot to sacrifice when he'd see Butters' vote. Everyone knew Butters was a total push-over and had a weird loyalty to Cartman. He'd been in awe at Kyle's argument the day before, but that didn't mean Cartman hadn't blackmailed him already. "Think this one through…" I said quietly.

"You're on Jew!"

"Goddamnit…" I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. Cartman made his way back to his seat in the front, his path marked by squeals of protest from the kids in the aisle seats being smooshed into his fat. I turned to my friend, "Kyle, you're such an idiot…Butters _always_ votes for Cartman."

"He _won't_ today…I've got a bribe he won't be able to resist." Kyle grinned, apparently on the same brainwave as me.

"What is it?"

"Blackmail material on Cartman; it's all his if he votes for me."

I punched him in the arm lightly. "Quit being so clever, coming up with the brilliant plans is _my_ job…" I teased. He just grinned back.

…

A few hours later, at lunch, I sought out Becca. She was sitting next to Bebe who was sitting with Red who was sitting next to Wendy who looked like she'd been crying. This was perfect. This might actually break _her_ heart for once instead of mine. _Be rough with love_.

I walked directly to Becca, avoiding Wendy's eyes. I motioned for her to follow me into the hall, and I took her hand, channeling some of the confidence I'd felt last night, burrowed into Kyle's lap. I could do this- I could do affectionate. She blushed, and it was heartening. "What is this about? Do I know you?" she said, brows quirked inquisitively.

"I'm Stan…I live down the street from you. I was wondering, would you like to go on a date sometime?" I said, marveling at my own confidence.

She stared at me unblinkingly. "Is this to get over Wendy? Because I heard why you two broke up."

My confidence shattered at that bluntness. "Um…excuse me?"

"I heard that you wouldn't kiss her," she explained, glancing down at our hands. I considered letting go of hers, but I waited and she spoke again. "But, you are really cute, and you asked nicely. Not many guys have the balls to just pull a girl away from her friends and ask her out, so I'll consider it. But, since I don't really know you, you've gotta prove that you want me more than Wendy. There's no point if you're just going to disappoint me. So, kiss me now," she demanded.

I glanced at her, appalled. Yeah, Kyle's plan was genius- supposed to be so simple…if Becca was just some blushing damsel. But no, she was so forward it was intimidating. But, there was no backing down now, not with her hard brown eyes watching me sharply. I had to try, so I turned over her hand in mind and leaned in a bit. Her eyes slipped closed and suddenly it was _really _real.

Shit…oh shit, it was coming up- oh fuck!

I didn't realize that barfed right in her face until I saw her drenched in chunks of Captain Crunch and stomach acid a few seconds later… "Goddamnit…"

…

**BROFLOVSKI**

"Butters!" I shouted as I approached the little blonde. Butters' hair was still short and he was still a nervous, spineless, innocent little kid. He hadn't grown up very much since grade school. A lot of the girls in the school thought it was adorable, but most of the guys just called him a pussy. "Butters!" I called again.

He stopped and turned around. "Ah, what is it Kyle?"

"We've got the votes from the debate today…" I reminded him.

"Ah, yeah…you're not gonna blackmail me into voting for you…are you?" he said hesitantly.

"No, but I'm going to help you make the choice you want to. Here's a video of Cartman dressed up as Kei$a, singing in a bra. You can use it as blackmail if he threatens you."

"Oh gee Kyle! I don't know if I can ever thank you enough!" he said, staring at me lovingly.

"Just stop that…" I said, staring back, voice clipped. "Quit making ogle eyes at me and we'll be even…"

…

**MARSH**

Well, I guess it wasn't just Wendy. I was too nervous to kiss _any_ girl. What was wrong with me? Wendy had kissed me a few times…a long time ago. But, it was always so brief that I could never even be sure if we made contact. This was depressing. I was fifteen years old and I'd never kissed a girl before.

I beat my head on a locker, hearing the lunch bell ringing, signaling that I was late. But, it wasn't like I cared. I was fucking _pitiful_. Even when it was a girl I cared nothing about, I couldn't do it.

"Stan?"

I lifted my head to the familiar voice. "Kyle? Why aren't you in class?"

"Well, I was on my way…but, you were…trying to kill brain cells?" he guessed.

"I asked her-…ah, I uh-"

"What?" he said concerned. "You asked Becca out? It didn't go well?"

I beat my head into the locker again. "Kyle, she wanted me to kiss her. I couldn't do it…I got too nervous. I just…I kept thinking about all the things she might say about me to her friends. And- and, don't want to waste my first good kiss on someone I don't really know…"

The halls had cleared as everyone rushed back to their classes. I turned to look at my best friend who had a quiet, deep, contemplating expression on his face. "If you don't want to kiss someone you don't know, than just kiss Wendy. She'll probably get back together with you if you do…" he said logically, voice detached and clinical.

"It's not that easy…I just _can't_ just do it. I'm too nervous about it," I muttered.

He grabbed the sides of my face, probably about to yell at me to stop being a pussy. Instead, he pulled me forward, taking advantage of my trust in him, and he connected our lips. He held my face in that position for a few seconds, kissing me chastely. I didn't know what to do in this situation. About eighty-percent of my brain was telling me to pull away and deck him, but the other twenty-percent wouldn't even consider it- until Kyle's tongue slipped between my lips and brushed mine, just for a second. Then, I jerked away hard.

He pulled back too, staring at my eyes calmly, unsurprised with my reaction. "There," he said. "Now, you don't have to be nervous. _That_ was your first kiss with tongue- or whatever it is that you've been on about- and you can just get on with your life. Nothing awkward or scary about it."

I shook with a plethora of mixed emotions. My _best friend_ had just _kissed_ me on the _lips_! That wasn't supposed to happen! And how could he just dismiss it like it was nothing?! Why he could he do that so carelessly? Had I _liked_ it? How I should react now? Did it actually help?

I finally came to the conclusion that I was pissed off…royally.

I threw a blind punch, feeling flesh meet with knuckles- and give under the force of it. Kyle grunted and he crumpled to the floor. "You _fucking__** ASSHOLE**_!" I screamed. "Do you _know_ what you just did?! That was my _first_ kiss…What the hell, man?"

He moaned on the floor, trying to stand and failing, hitting the ground again with a heavy thump. I didn't know I could hit that hard. Kyle wasn't weak…it had to be an intense blow to make him crumple like that… I kneeled down and lifted his arm. He was out cold. His glasses were broken and his nose was bleeding. A cheek was a bit bruised. I probably broke something…

What I had done? I didn't mean it! I needed to come up with a lie. There would be some sort of legal action if Kyle's mom found out that this was my fault… Kyle wouldn't want that either, but I couldn't just leave him here.

I needed a ride to the hospital…Shelly? I quickly called her and told her the whole story. Thank _God_ she'd chilled out a bit and I only had to bribe her with fifty dollars to get a ride. She drove up to the back of the school building so we could load him up into the back of the car.

We took him to Hell's Pass and checked him into the E.R. We left as soon as possible. I felt like a total dick.


	5. If it wouldn't give you AIDS

MARSH

Oh…shit. I gave my best friend a concussion. I was such an asshole. He was just trying to help me. He could've been less of a dick about it, but still…I'd given him a _concussion_… I had to make it up to him.

I walked to the hospital afterschool to see him. His parents were talking with the receptionist. His father noticed me first and turned Sheila around. My stomach was churning unpleasantly. This wasn't going to end well.

"Do you know what happened to our Kyle?" Sheila seemed really distraught.

"Ah, he fell down the stairs at lunch…he hit his head on the railing and passed out. I got Shelly to drive us to the hospital."

"Well, you did the right thing, thank you, Stan. Are you here to see him?" Gerald asked calmly.

"Yeah," I said. You'd think it would be obvious.

"He's down the hall in room four," he said, pointing in the direction I needed to go.

I walked down the hall and stopped at the door. I wondered if he was awake. If so, was he mad? I opened the door hesitantly. "Kyle?" I said softly. He was awake, staring at the ceiling tiredly. "Are you alright?" I asked.

"Fuck you," he spat.

"Yeah…" I admitted. "That's probably necessary…" I sat in the chair next to his bed and folded my hands in my lap. He had a nice bruise around his cheek and nose and a cut from where his glasses had shattered next to his eye. "I'm the asshole…I know."

"Stan, I was just trying to help you. I _thought_ you were hinting that you wanted me to kiss you. You kept saying you wanted someone you knew really well. You can't really blame me for thinking that meant me."

"I was just…surprised I guess. I'm sorry…" I pleaded.

He was silent for a long time. I tried to find something to look at in the room- since he was so obviously avoiding looking at me. After a few moments of sitting awkwardly, he finally spoke, "It's alright. I _did_ sort of have bad timing…" he admitted, eyes locking on mine and a small smile quirking at his lips.

"Damn straight!" I said, raising a brow. "I was already feeling bad about not being able to kiss Becca, you didn't have to rub it in."

"Sorry... Don't think too much about it. We've both apologized and the kiss didn't mean anything, so don't let this make us all awkward, alright?" he said calmly.

"Thanks," I said carefully. How could he always be so stable in situations like this? "So…how are you?" I asked. "I didn't break anything…did I?" I was genuinely concerned, and not just so I wouldn't get in trouble. I'd been in _much_ worse trouble than this. I just didn't want him in pain when he really didn't deserve it… "I was so scared I gave you a concussion."

"I'm fine, just bruised up. But, you're still an asshole. You broke my glasses, fucktard. My mom is going to kill me."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, she'll kill me first…" I said sadly. I knew it was true. His mom was extremely overprotective when it came to her real son.

"I'm not going to tell her…not if you don't speak about the kiss…?" he said hopefully.

I laughed. "I thought that was _obvious_!" I said, overjoyed. He didn't seem that mad, and he understood my embarrassment. "But, there's just one thing I want to know? Why did you do it?"

He shrugged, tugging at the flaps of his ushanka nervously. "I just wanted to help. I thought that if you got your first time over with than you could just move on. Did it work?"

"I don't know. I was too distracted to try afterschool. I'll try tomorrow…"

"Promise?" he said, holding out his pinky.

I grinned, taking it and shaking our hands up and down. "I swear."

He smiled. "And, if you can't do it, promise you won't go emo on me again?"

"Well, I'm not quite there yet, but I _do_ like enjoying life more than hating it…so I'm just going to give this a try. Just be there to pull me back if I do…"

"As long as you're not a dick about it," he said.

I ruffled his hair and stood up. "When will they let you leave?" I asked.

"My parents are out there signing me out. I'm guessing I can leave any minute now," he replied easily.

**BROVFLOVSKI**

I talked to Ike that night to get some advice on how to approach Rebecca. Somehow, he tended to be really knowledgeable on these sorts of things. I never knew what to do since I preferred to avoid drama situations like they would give me AIDs…and this time they might…

He said I should be direct and get out what needs to be said. He said that she would probably understand my dilemma, she probably wouldn't change her ways, but I might be able to get her to convince everyone that I hadn't done anything to her.

It sounded reasonable. It was all I really wanted. I wasn't trying to change her, just vindicate myself. I'd only thought I was I love with her for a week. But, I think I was just in love with the idea of being in love. It didn't help that Stan had been spending most of his time with Wendy and I was feeling alone.

I thought about it all night, staying up much later than I'd intended. I was going to have bags under my eyes…

Stan was a nervous wreck the next morning. I knew he was just freaking out because he'd promised to kiss Wendy today. I tried to distract him by talking about his parents and how he should probably go try to help them, but he just responded with a simple, "They're adults, they can handle themselves."

We _both_ knew they couldn't handle themselves. But, I let it go. He just stared out the window of the window in his living room, thinking. I hoped he was prepping himself mentally. If he didn't keep up with his promise I would deck him. He'd already broken my glasses and given me a black bruise on the side of my face. Now, I had to wear the hospital's glasses they'd given me…well, I guess not _given_ since they were included in our bill. And…well, they were uglier than my normal glasses.

It was Saturday, so Cartman and Kenny had come over to Stan's house and taken over the kitchen and Xbox. Stan was too distracted to do anything about it, and I really didn't care much as long as it wasn't _my_ house.

"So…um, I'm going to talk to Rebecca today…" I muttered, walking up behind him and leaning on the wall. He just grunted his response. "People are blaming _me_ for addicting her to sex…I need to talk to her." He just pressed his cheek against the window and stared out into the grey morning. "I'm nervous, Stan."

He was being so unsupportive. I'd always tried my best to be there for _him_. You'd think he could maybe return the favor every once and awhile….

"Stan! Are you listening?" I demanded.

"What?" he said, clueless, straightening up and looking at me innocently.

"I was saying that I'm going to talk to Rebecca today, dipshit," I replied heatedly.

"Why are you getting mad at _me_ then?" he said.

"Because you're not being very much help!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Ah, never mind. You'd be useless anyway…" I muttered, letting my head fall onto the wall. I was fucking _terrified_ of talking to Rebecca. She'd started going to public school when we'd all reached high school and when everyone had become sexually active. She'd been…excited to say the least (no pun intended).

Somehow, she got a lot of sex, even though all the guys in school (even Kenny) were afraid to fuck her. She was known to carry three different STDs and some kind of unknown rash. I was nervous to just to stand within five feet of her for fear of catching something.

"Just…good luck," Stan muttered, head still plastered against the window. "And, don't get raped."

I punched his arm, "It's not funny, Stan!"

Cartman cackled from the couch, "It's pretty fucking funny, Kahl!" he laughed.

Kenny's head popped out from behind the kitchen door. He had a bag of potato chips and a jar of pickles. "Hey, what's so funny guys?"

"Stan thinks Kyle'll get raped if I talk to Rebecca!" Cartman laughed.

Kenny smirked. "He's probably right. She's a crazy sex-addicted bitch!," shocking words from Kenny McCormick, putting 'sex-addicted' and 'bitch' in the same sentence. "And, everyone knows she wants you most of all~" he called after himself as he returned to the kitchen.

Stan and I watched him disappear into the kitchen, a heavy leaden weight settling in my stomach…nervousness, probably. Stan's hand fell onto my shoulder, "But, seriously, don't get raped. You're virginity's mine," he teased, trying to lighten me up- and succeeding.

"Then take me now! Right here, in front of Cartman!" I cried dramatically, feigning desperateness.

Cartman gagged, sitting on the couch and eating cookie dough and watching cartoon re-runs. We laughed. It was so easy to get a rise from him. He was such a homophobe and Stan and I were pseudo-married anyway so us talking gay around each other was completely normal.

Still, neither of us felt that way about each other. I'd kissed Stan, but it was as much to help me as it was to help him. I'd been terrified of kissing anyone since Rebecca had so much sex which had let to so many abortions just because of my kiss. I trusted Stan not to become a sex-addict- he was the most faithful person I'd ever known. He'd be the _last_ person on earth to turn into a playboy from my tongue.

I glanced over at him. He was staring out the window again, obviously thinking deeply. Kenny returned to the room, humming with his eyes closed. He had a plate of deviled eggs and macaroni and cheese. I sighed. Today was going to be a long day…

…

I found Rebecca standing outside the old town gym looking like a prostitute. Her legs were almost entirely exposed despite the snow, and she was wearing bootie-shorts and black netting. Her shirt was sleeveless and she wore a thin see-through cover over it so the manager of the gym couldn't yell at her for indecent exposure. Her hair was puffed up and she wore a ton of make-up.

I sighed, approaching her anxiously. "Rebecca?" I said, shoving my hands into my pockets. "We need to talk…"

She just smiled and uncrossed her legs, reclosing them the other direction. "I've been waiting for you to approach me. With all the dirty looks you give me in the hall, I'm surprised it took this long and that you wanted to follow me _here_."

"Well, I really didn't know what to say to you," I replied calmly.

"Do you know now?" she asked curiously.

"Yes," I confirmed. "I want to ask you to look at what you're doing. You're hurting yourself more than anyone, but your actions also hurt my reputation. People think _I_ turned you into a…well…"

"A whore," she finished for me.

"Yes."

She stood straight and moved closer to me. I restrained myself from backing up. "I'm just enjoying life while I have it. I'm not trying to ruin your reputation, do you really think I ever even _thought_ about that? I hardly know you, Kyle. You never _let_ me know you, but…I _will_ help you…if you kiss me?"

I backed up pointedly. "_Hell _no…!" I said, pushing my hat further on my head.

She shrugged. "Well…it was worth a shot. I have to tell you, Kyle. I've kissed a lot of guys in a lot of different ways, and even though we were young and it was chaste and more innocent than I like, _yours_ was still the best to this day. I'll tell people that you never hurt me or made me do anything I didn't want."

I sighed, relieved. "Thank you…" I said sincerely.

"However," she began. "I'm not going to tell them that my addiction isn't your fault, because it is. I'm determined to find someone as good as you were. _That's_ why I've done so many things…"

"Because of _one_ kiss?" I demanded, appalled. Even if it was a compliment, I didn't want to be responsible for this monster that was created.

"Well, that's not all it is, and I guess since you find me repulsive anyway I'll tell you… I've got AIDS, Kyle. I'm going to die soon enough. Might as well just have fun with the time I've got left…" she said, shrugging.

I put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. _This_ was something I could relate to. Though, my AIDS weren't self-inflicted. "I'm so sorry, Rebecca…I won't tell anyone, I swear."

She smiled. "Man, if it wouldn't kill you, I might fuck you," she said sweetly.

Well…_she_ was still socially retarded…

…

I walked back to Stan's house to find it completely empty, so I didn't stay there. He must've been out with Wendy. I wondered how that was going as I walked to my house.

I opened the door to find my mother standing with her hands on her hips. I groaned. I'd forgotten to clean my room this morning. "Kyle!" she said as I stepped in the door and took off my hat. "You're getting your braces off on Monday. If you want to get contacts at the same time, I'd be fine with it, but you've got to clean your room if you want to be rewarded."

Rewarded? I didn't remember asking for contacts. I just asked for new glasses, but I guess it couldn't be a _bad_ thing…right?


	6. Survive South Park

_My internet was down when I got home today. My parents are geniuses… They didn't know the adapter was unplugged… So, I've been listening to a lot of Until June and Awolnation while writing this, so sorry if it sounds like I'm on crack…_

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

I finally the resolve to do it this time…there was no reason not to anymore. It wasn't my first kiss, so it wouldn't matter to me if I screwed the hell out of it! I'd prepped myself _all_ morning, and now I was ready.

I walked over to her house, feeling confident. I'd have to thank Kyle later for kissing me. I stopped in my tracks and laughed at the thought. _Thanking_ my _best friend_ for _kissing_ me? It sounded so _weird_…

I resumed walking, thinking to myself calmly. I wondered what Wendy was wearing. It was a bit nippy out again. School was almost out, so why wasn't the weather warmer? Damn the weather for being so bi-polar…

I'd practiced kissing on my hands last night (shameful as it sounds). I practiced my aim and using minor suckage, but I had too much dignity to practice tongue with my hand…even in private. If my facts were right, it was easy. I just had to touch her lips with mine. Something like that couldn't be _hard_.

Kyle floated into my mind again. He'd reassured me that it was easy this morning. Every time he talked about kissing though, my brain flashed back to our scene next to my locker. It really _hadn't_ been a _bad_ kiss. It was really brief, so I can't be sure what it was really like. I silently wondered if, maybe it had lasted longer, if I might have _liked_ it. I shook the thought away quickly and stuffed my hands into my pockets.

"FOUND HIM!" I heard a familiar voice yell behind me. Everything suddenly went dark and my feet left the ground. I struggled as some sort of gag was tied around my mouth and my head was stuffed into what seemed like a pillow case?

I screamed. What the hell was this? I was being _kidnapped_? It was sad that I couldn't say it was the _first_ time it had happened, but it had never been this violent before!

I kicked and thrashed for what seemed like hours until the bag was ripped from my head and I found myself in a chair with my arms tied together and legs strapped to the chair legs. I bit down on the rag when I saw Cartman. That bastard! What was he doing?

We were in some sort of storage facility, stacked high with cardboard boxes filled fruit juice bottles. Cartman was standing next to two people with shaved heads in bomber jackets. Wait... Mom? Dad? What the _hell_ was this?

"Thank you Cartman…you're a lifesaver," Dad said, patting the fat lard on the back like he was his son or something. Needless to say, I was confused and pissed off.

My mother finally stepped forward and took the rag from my mouth so I could communicate my fury. "Mom, what the _hell_ is going on?" I snapped.

"You're dad's gotten us into a bit of trouble…as you know. You got our text?" she said seriously.

"You said you were abducted by Skinheads. So, why do you look like you _are_ Skinheads?" I demanded angrily. "And why am _I_ here?"

"We had to bring you…because well…" she began, but she started crying, unable to finish. Dad rubbed her back and cried with her. What was going on?

"They've gotta kill ya Stan," Cartman said casually, slipping his gloves off and stuffing them into his pockets. "If they don't, the Skins will kill both of them and your sister. Randy decided it was best to sacrifice you for the rest of the family." He really didn't seem _sad_ to be seeing my parents forced to kill me...asshole.

Mom started crying again.

"Is this a fucking joke? Cause if so…it's really not funny," I muttered angrily. "What's going on?"

Dad put his hand on my back. "I tried to give Sharon's life, but they wouldn't take her Stan…" he sobbed and she cried into his shoulder. My _God_; my parents are idiots…I _swear_. "They said that we'd seen too much when I called them out in that alleyway in Denver. I didn't know it would escalade like this. But, the only way we can go home is if we kill you. They'll use it as blackmail to keep us quiet and they'll let the rest of us go free…"

"So, let me get this straight..." I began. "You saw some shifty gang behavior in an allyway in Denver (I'm guessing the gang members had shaved heads), and you decided it would be _smart_ to call them out on it?" I said, more disappointed in my father than I'd _ever_ been, and he's gotten earth kicked out of interplanetary relations before...

They didn't answer my question. Maybe dad didn't realize how stupid he was. That would explain a lot. My mom cried, turning to me. "Stan, you have to understand where we're coming from this. They'll kill your sister _and_ us. It's one life for three! We had to make a choice…" she sobbed.

"This is getting _so_ old," I muttered, pinching my eyes shut. I turned my head to Cartman. "Why are you here?"

"I'm a Skin, dude. Closest thing to Nazis that's left," he said simply.

"You have fun with that," I muttered, shaking my head. I turned back to my parents. "Can I just make a phone call real quick? Like a last call? I just wanna talk to someone…"

"Oh, Stan…" Dad said, voice dropping. "We don't have a phone. We're trapped in here too…Cartman's just keeping watch over us to make sure we don't try to escape."

"Why are your heads shaved?" I demanded.

"I thought we could blend in if we pretended to be one of them, but Randy went and screwed my plan up," Mom said angrily.

"But, Sharon, it's not like I could possibly know how to act like a white supremist gang member!"

Mom glared at him. "Well, you could start by not playing street basket ball with a group of African Americans in your free time. That's like the dumbest thing to do when you're pretending to be white supremist!"

"Maybe _that's_ why they started leaving when I showed up…" he muttered, rubbing his chin.

"Dad, you're a dumbass," I muttered.

"Well, they don't have to kill you until Tuesday… That's their deadline," Cartman said. "You'll probably be allowed a monitored phone call if you can find some money to buy us off."

"Awesome," I mumbled. "So, can you untie me…?" I loved them enough to go through with this. If my dying was the only way to save my family…I guess it was for a good cause.

I'd had a good run…hadn't I? My friends and I had changed a lot in our lifetime… I was sure they'd be just fine without me. It wasn't that I was a useless part of the group, if anything I was most important, but I had faith that Kyle and Kenny could survive South Park…

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><p><em>Okay, so now it's starting to heat up a bit. Next chapter is Kyle's.<em>

_I've been getting about __**one**__ review a day! (I know that's sad to be so excited about that) but I'm just happy people like my story! All my comments have been about how I've been keeping everyone in character, and I hope to continue to do so. So, if I start going off-wire, tell me before I dig it too deep._

_I just noticed that this is my shortest chapter... I'll post another tonight... XD_


	7. Kenny's cup size

BROVFLOVSKI

I'd always figured I had a lot of qualities to brag about. I'm hard working, get good grades, have awesome friends, I'm always equipped with a witty comeback, and I'm very confident despite my nerdy appearance.

Apparently, it was never enough for my mom. She thought that I didn't _try_. It wasn't that at all; it was that I didn't know what I could do about it. I'd never understood the need to dress stylishly. My frizzy red Jew-fro was always beyond taming, my braces puffed out my lips, and my glasses hid my eyes.

I was quite comfortable with my appearance. I mean, even when my closest friends teased me about it, I still had "the nicest ass in the school," according to Bebe, so why should it bother me?

Despite my lack of self-consciousness, it was still exciting to hear that my mother would let me buy contacts when I got my braces off. It was two great, historic moments in the same day!

I woke up four hours earlier than I needed to on Monday, overly excited about the day ahead. I couldn't go back to sleep when I was this jittery, so I threw back the covers and shuffled into the bathroom to take my shower early.

I turned on the faucet, smiling to myself. Today would be good. After drying my hair with a towel and stuffing it back in my hat, I walked into my bedroom and dressed myself. I tugged on some loose-fitting jeans that were discarded on my computer chair last night.

I found the phone in the pocket. Flipping it open I found a voicemail from Kenny's house and an, unread text. I frowned; it was from Cartman, just reminding me that I was a "useless Jersey, ginger, Jew-fag".

I considered calling Kenny back, but I figured it was too early and his parents probably had hangovers. I snickered at the thought and picked up the book I'd read for my project. It was about Coca-Cola, but was surprisingly interesting.

I must've fallen asleep because Ike woke me up to tell me we were leaving. We all scrambled into the car and drove me to the orthodontist. Dad and Ike left to go out to eat while Mom waited for me in the reception room.

There was a little discomfort throughout the process, but in the end, it was _very_ worth it. I smiled into the mirror, admiring my new, straight teeth. When I left, dad and Ike had returned and all four of us returned to the car. We went to the ophthalmologist next and picked up some acuvue contacts.

I thanked my parents as we left the eye doctor's. Ike was staring up at me in some sort of weird trance. "Who are you?" he said, awestruck.

I just slapped him gently on the back, "Quit joking around. It's not _that_ different."

"You _really_ don't look like Kyle…" he replied. "Take off the hat." I reached up and exposed my voluptuous fro. He grinned. "There you are…"

I laughed, patting his head and messing his hair up a bit. He growled at me. He'd grown up so much. He was completely understandable when he spoke and he had grown his hair out to about his neck so it covered his ears.

"Hey, is that you Kyle?" came a muffled voice.

I turned, "Kenny? What are you doing here?" I was happy to see him, but I hadn't expected anyone to see me without my glasses until tomorrow at school.

"We're going shopping," Kenny said calmly. "I'm gonna get you a new style for your new face!" he said, eyes smiling.

I just stared at him. "Dude…I just got my braces and glasses off, I didn't change my face…" Kenny just laughed at that. "And, I've got to wear this retainer," I added, reaching into my mouth and making to take out the retainer until mom slapped my hand away.

"That's disgusting Kyle! And, I agree with your little friend bubbi!" she snapped. "You're wardrobe is outdated and you're hair needs…trimming," she said gingerly.

"Mom! You agree with them!" I demanded, tugging at the flaps of my hat.

Kenny stepped forward, tilting my chin down to inspect my "_new_" face. I had grown to be the tallest of the group, but not by much, and Kenny was still the shortest. He inspected my eyes and pulled my lips back to see the job the braces had done. I growled in the back of my throat; his fingers were salty…

"Hm…they did a good job Mrs. Broflovski," he reported. "His teeth are tight, straight and white, and the contacts really bring out the dark green in his eyes…though…they're still mostly brown," he said, rubbing his chin.

"What the hell is this about?" I deadpanned. Was my mother _paying_ Kenny to do this or something? God, Kenny is such a whore!

They ignored my question and walked over to the car where Kenny took the front seat…_his_ seat. Dad, Ike, and I filed into the back, glaring at mother through the rearview mirror.

We stopped at the hair salon first. Were they cutting my hair? I had _**not **_agreed to this… I spent the time between going inside and signing me in to when they pulled out of the parking lot, piercing eye-daggers into my friend and mother. "Well, I'll be back to pick up you boys at the mall in a few hours, here's eighty dollars…look for sales bubbi," Sheila said, leaning over and kissing me on the forehead. I groaned and accepted the money.

"Damn you Kenny," I growled after she'd pulled away.

He just shrugged. "Sometimes it works out that way, but I usually get to go to heaven…" he shrugged again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "She already gave _me_ my money. She said with all the money she's been saving up hoping you'd get some new clothes, she ended up with more than you could even spend, so she asked me to help convince you to go."

"How much did she give you?" I asked hesitantly.

"Sixty…" Kenny said, smiling proudly.

"She's so dumb. You would've done it for ten," I laughed. I really couldn't help it if my parents were dumb. I might as well just be thankful they paid Kenny to come do this instead of Cartman or something.

Kenny laughed, "I would've done it for a quarter!"

I just shook my head, "You're such a whore."

"What kind of hair cut do you want?" he replied, holding the door open for me. "I was thinking you should keep it at least half-way down your neck so you don't look like a total douche. But, you should definitely get it thinned so it won't…eat your head alive…" he said gently.

"Not funny," I muttered, half-heartedly punching him in the arm.

We sat on the red leather couches and waited until a lady with short choppy hair came out wearing a long apron. She motioned for us to follow. Kenny stood out with me the entire time she cut my hair, giving her tips and suggestions. Kenny always cut his own hair, mostly because he couldn't afford to do otherwise, but he was pretty good at it by this point.

I just silently seethed in the chair. I'd been so happy about just being able to lose the discomfort of braces and glasses. But, of course my parents would be able to find a way to screw up my happiness. Now, my entire _image_ was being changed. I was just fine the way I was…wasn't I?

I was starting to doze off. Having someone comb through your hair, occasionally trimming, and sometimes using a hair dryer, it was all very soothing. I'd woke up early this morning anyway and I hadn't slept enough. My head was starting to lull when the chair spun around so I could see her work.

I grinned. I hardly recognized myself. I hadn't looked in a mirror since I'd gotten rid of the glasses. I've got dark brownish-green eyes and dark red hair that, now, hung in soft little curly strands down over my forehead just over my eyebrows, past my ears, and halfway down my neck. It flipped upwards in places, but was manageable for the most part. I looked closer. I've got high cheekbones and pale skin. My chin, tapered, and I had a slender neck. I'd never noticed, but I was more handsome than I'd thought… "Wow…" I muttered, turning around and staring at Kenny who was smirking like a total smartass.

Kenny reached out and took my arm as they walked out. "I always knew you were hiding that down there somewhere, but still…_DAYUM_!"

I couldn't help but laugh despite myself. I was still pretty mad about this whole thing. "I don't know…I kind of miss the fro… I can't do the fro walk anymore," I joked, swinging my head as we walked as if I were listening to eighties music. All I felt were the little curls bobbing against my forehead. I frowned pointedly at him when he laughed at me.

It was nice outside; one of those weird days where it seems like it _wants_ to rain, but it just wouldn't. There was absolutely no rush to walk to the mall. I wasn't even sure why we were going… I hate shopping. I think Kenny just likes having money in his hands and getting to hand it to people like he does it every day.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be in school?" I asked him, seriously. "My parents just let us take today off for the occasion…did you have permission to be here?"

"Duh, I just had to tell the parents that I was getting sixty-bucks and they practically shoved me out the door. And, don't worry about school, I can catch up…"

It had been awhile since I'd talked to Kenny one on one. He was my second-best-friend after Stan. I'd been spending so much time with Stan that I'd forgotten how funny Kenny was when you got him alone. In large groups of people, he tends to be quiet and just sit back and listen, but alone with him, he's a chatterbox.

He talked about this new porn site he'd found and all the raunchy fanfics he'd been reading over Cartmen's house (without his permission of course) since his family didn't get internet. I just listened, laughing occasionally when Kenny went into gross details about some of his porn.

Counter to popular belief, I could be pretty perverted myself, but I just found most of the stuff funny, not at all suggestive. I never really got "excited" from much either. I'd watched some pretty hardcore stuff and managed to stay flaccid…

Over the years, I think I'd realized something. I wasn't homo like Cartmen said I was, nor was I bi like Kenny suggested, I probably wasn't even straight like my parents thought. I really didn't like _anyone_ like _that_. I'd become so comfortable with being single that I just couldn't think of myself _together_ with anyone.

I'd never had a real girlfriend; never. People were just so shallow when it came to dating. I was pretty sure I was the only _sane_ person in the world who actually wanted to be with someone I _love_. I wasn't planning on wasting my time on some passing crush.

Now that I thought about it, that's probably why I was never worried about my appearance. Real relatoinships aren't based on appearence. Therefore, I could dress like a total slob and still firmly believe that I wouldn't die alone. But, according to Kenny all that was about to change. We walked into the mall, coming in right where the bras were kept. It was true that I hated shopping, but with Kenny, it was easy. He ran excitedly into the racks lingerie and picked out the largest, most lacy bra he could find and quickly put it on over his orange hoodie.

He strode over to me, swaying his hips ridiculously and puckering his lips. "Why hello~ there~, who are you~?" he said, using a squiggly after _every word_. He laced an arm around my back and pressing his "boobs" against my chest. I laughed, shoving him off.

"Let's just get on with this!" I snapped, laughing despite myself.

Kenny had me buy myself some stripped jackets because I mentioned that I liked stripes. I still didn't understand what was wrong with my orange coat? But, while we were here, I might as well get some things _I'd_ been wanting right? I bought a pair of Ray Bans and a Family Guy tee-shirt. Kenny had already bought fifteen shirts, five pairs of pants, and three pairs of shoes. He'd only spent forty dollars. The kid was like a super-shopper.

"Yeah, one time at Kohl's I got a jacket that was supposed to cost sixty-five ninety-nine for forty-seven cents! The lady at the register wouldn't let me use the last coupon either; she said the store would be paying me to take the clothes!"

I almost fell over with laughter. "I can understand why you have so many orange hoodies now then, I guess you bought them in bulk…?" I said, struggling to catch my breath.

Kenny shrugged, "Naturally." He glanced into the store they were passing and suddenly gripped my hand and pulled me in. "We've got to buy you these!"

"H-hot Topic?" I stuttered, glancing up at the sign above the entrance. "Kenny, this is a goth and punk store…"

"Yeah, but dude, there's stuff in here for everyone!"

I chuckled nervously. "Wow, Kenny. I bet the goth kids hate you…"

"Well, I don't try to dress like them do I? And, neither will you. I just want you to get these jeans! I mean holy fucking-shit! One side is black and the other is white!"

"I'll admit it's cool," I said calmly, successfully hiding the fact that this store creeped me out a bit. "Let's see the price tag…" He flipped the tag up to inspect it. "Holy shit! Thirty dollars? Dude!"

"Oh, come on!" Kenny pleaded. "You'd look great in these, and it's not that much for jeans! Besides, I've got a gift card for this store and I've got store credit and a coupon. I'll get them for free," he assured me.

…

Coming back to school on Tuesday was extremely _entertaining_. My teachers hardly recognized me without my hat, glasses, or braces. Girls were hitting on me left and right and it felt so _good_ to be able to turn them down. Rebecca looked devastated when she saw me.

The only thing weird and unexpected was the absence of both Cartman _and Stan_. I'd sort of been hoping to see Stan's reaction. I knew Cartman was just going to point at me and call me a fag or something rude like that. But, I wondered how Stan would take it.

I waited through all my classes, watching the clock. Half the students were staring at me instead of listening to the lectures. Was it really _that_ big a change? I boarded the bus with Kenny and sat in the back seat. It felt oddly empty without Stan and his backpack to take up half the space.

I walked home with Kenny and waved goodbye when he got to his house. I was just going to go home, but I stopped, glancing at Stan's window on the second floor of his home. Maybe he was sick? I wanted to know why he wasn't at school, so I found his key and let myself inside.

"Stan?" I yelled into the doorway. My voice echoed back at me through the empty house. I walked in curiously. Stan would've answered…wouldn't he? I climbed the steps, running up them two at a time. I stopped at his bedroom door. It was still open which must mean he wasn't home.

I let myself in anyway just to make sure he wasn't just hiding in his covers again. I wondered if maybe he'd failed with Wendy again. But, he wasn't in his room. I checked. His bathroom was empty and closet was clear. He wasn't home…

I glanced at the floor. He'd left his cell phone? Stan always took his cell phone when he went anywhere important. I bent over and snatched it off the floor, flipping it open to find a voicemail symbol blinking on a blank white screen. I knew his password was just his birthday, so being nosy, I typed in: 10-19-96 and held it to my ear.

I almost dropped the phone in confusion. What I was hearing on the other end made no sense… Why would Stan leave a voicemail on his own phone, and why was he crying?

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><p><em>Aaaannnddd. My hands are officially cramping. YOURE ALL WELCOME! Thank me for updating twice in one day and putting Kenny in a bra? Leave me a review? <em>


	8. Kyle's mom is a crazy B!

_I feel so pitiful. I keep staring at the number of reviews and willing it to go up. And, BTW…listen to a really depressing song while reading Stan's message. It makes it more emotional…_

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><p>MARSH<p>

On Tuesday, I was tied up again and carried to the back of a truck by Cartman. I heard him yelling driving directions at my father. We drove to an abandoned building that had probably been a factory in its prime, but it had been gutted. Tall, burly men with shaved heads were packed inside, talking and playing loud music.

I guess this was the headquarters or something. I was carried in and thrown into a dark room. The door was locked behind me. I could still hear the loud music outside. I let my head fall onto the wall behind me.

I knew Kyle would be the most upset if I died. My parents seemed upset, but I don't think it would ruin them for the rest of their lives. They would move on…eventually. Kyle and I had been closer than brothers since birth.

Being separated from Kyle was just weird to think of. We'd always just expected that the world would keep us together, no matter what. But, we were foolish. One of us would die first and the other would be left alone. I'd always expected I'd be stuck on earth without him considering his diabetes and Cartman's murderous hatred toward him.

If things happened that way, I would be lost. There would be no one to crack fat jokes at Cartman, no one to come over at four in the morning to complain to me, no one to seek my approval, no one to be my parachute. I would be…alone.

But, what was I to him anyway? I was sure that I was his best friend at least. I'd saved his life on a few occasions, and I always tried to protect him when someone was making fun of him. I hoped that I was important to him. I hoped that he'd cry for me, but at the same time, I didn't want him to suffer because of this. I guess I just wanted him to miss me, but I wanted him to move on and be happy.

I wondered how Wendy would respond when she heard the news. Would she cry? Fall to her knees on the floor? Would she just shake her head and walk away, completely unfazed? I'd been in love with Wendy since grade school, and I always had the feeling that, no matter how hard I tried, I just wouldn't matter as much to her as she did to me.

Then there was Kenny. He was always so quiet around me so I didn't know him as well, but he was there for me too. He wasn't the type to comfort my emotional problems like Kyle was, but Kenny helped me pull through daily life. Kenny had things so rough, but he got good grades and worked hard and pulled himself through. As we all matured, Kenny taught me that I can't complain about circumstances.

And, Shelly? She'd _better_ be thankful for this…

The lock on the door snapped audibly. My head snapped up as the room illuminated. "Get up!" a deep voice snapped.

I leaned forward and un-bent my knees, unable to use my hands to lift myself since they were tied behind my back. A giant paw-like hand grabbed me by the arms and lead me forward into the crowd of shaven heads and harsh glares. I rubbed my fingers together nervously behind my back.

"You're execution time has been set for tomorrow afternoon," a man wearing a black bomber jacket with red shoe laces and patches on his coat said. "Member Cartman has stood up for you because he says he knows you. You'll get a fifteen minute final call that will be monitored and traced. Go back to your cell."

I thanked him briefly and shuffled back into the storage closet. I sat against the wall again, this time noticing some cleaning supplies that I hadn't seen last time I'd been thrown in here. No wonder it smelled like bleach.

After what felt like a few hours of darkness and a desperate need to relieve myself, a fat shadow opened the door and filled the doorway when the light came in. "Hey, Stan…" he said. It sounded like Cartman.

"What do you want?" I said agitated. "Are you here to take me out to the bathroom or feed me or something? I'm gonna fucking piss myself if you don't take me to a bathroom…"

"Fine," he snarled, grabbing my elbow and helping me stand. He lead me to a bathroom and undid one of my handcuffs, relocking it to the piping of the urinal while I peed.

"So," I said after I'd finished and washed my hands. "If not to help me with the necessities, why _did_ you come to me?"

"Because, I don't want you to die like this…" he said calmly. "I want your death to be slower than just having a bullet put in your head. It won't be any fun to watch..."

"Good to know…"I muttered, "Glad to know you care, Cartman," I said sarcastically.

"So, I offered your parents to kill you for them. You mother wanted me to ask how you _wanted_ to die, so here I am. Remember though, before talking, I'm probably going to disregard everything you say and do it my own way…"

"Well, I know for a fact that I don't want to be killed by _you_," I growled firmly.

"Hey, hey, I'm the _good_ guy in this! _I'm_ allowing you an extra day to live and a phone call so you can say all your faggy goodbyes," he said defensively.

"That just makes it harder, Cartman!" I snapped, opening the bathroom door and walking across the factory back to my closet. I wasn't going to fight any of this. I was lucky that I wasn't just murdered on the spot when I'd come in. I was _lucky_ to be getting a waiting period.

I silently rehearsed in my head what I wanted to say. I already knew I wanted to call Kyle, but I also knew that the call would be tracked. Kyle would probably be worried that I wasn't in school for two days. He'd probably go to my house to look for me and let himself inside. I could just leave a voicemail on my own cell phone and there would be no harm done. Kyle would get the message, hear what I had to say, and he would be in _absolutely_ no danger.

It was sad that I wouldn't get to hear his voice, or be comforted right before my death. It was sad that I couldn't have real interaction with the person I would miss more than anyone, before I had to leave them.

I thought thoroughly about what I wanted to say. I carefully weighed all my emotions and tried to memorize a fifteen minute rant that I could recite for my voicemail. I was confused and thinking hard when I drifted off to an uncomfortable sleep.

BROVFLOVSKI

It was Tuesday afternoon when I had come to Stan's house to find no one home and a disturbing message on his cell phone. I'd flipped it open and found a voicemail. When I listened, it didn't make sense that Stan would leave a message on his own phone, so I listened intently.

He was crying and had to sniffle before speaking, "**Um…hi. It's…it's Stan… It's so weird trying to say everything in just a few minutes. I don't have long… Kyle? I know it's you listening to this…so, can you tell everyone what I have to say,**" he choked for a few seconds.

"**Kyle, I'm going to die today. M-…my dad saw too much and now the skins need something to blackmail him with to keep him silent. My parents are supposed to k-kill me…sometime tonight… **

"**Cartma- ouch!**" he cried as a loud thumping sound on the other line let me know he'd been kicked pretty hard. "**Um…I know somebody here, and they helped me get a phone call to say my goodbyes. I wanted to call **_**you**_**, but I didn't want to put you in danger of being hunted down, so I left a message hoping you'd find it. **

"**I want you to tell Kenny that I seriously respect him. Tell him that he's taught me how to be strong and level-headed. Tell him I say goodbye. **

**"Tell Shelly that I always loved her even though we never really got along. She's my sister and I know that it doesn't mean much, but I just want her to know that I'd always wanted to live up to her expectations…if I could figure out what they were. Even though she hated me, we went through a lot together, dealing with mom and dad. I hope she can fall in love and be happy…**

**"And, Kyle? Tell Wendy that I'm sorry. Tell her that I always loved her and that I still do. Tell her how much it hurt me to see her with someone else. Tell her that I thought she was smart, strong, funny, and so overwhelmingly confident. Tell her that I thought she was perfect…and I'll miss her."**

He was quiet for a few seconds so he could pull his voice back together. I bit my lip and dug my fingers into my hair. This couldn't _really_ be happening…right? We'd been in life-threatening situations so many times before that this didn't seem _real_…

He continued, "**Tell everyone at school that I didn't want this. Don't tell them how it all happened…just let them know that I didn't **_**want**_** to die. I don't want anyone thinking that I was suicidal. I don't want anyone to feel guilty and think that they could've prevented my death or anything. **_**… … oh God…Kyle, I shouldn't have to do this!**_"He choked up. "**I shouldn't have to be saying my goodbyes over a voicemail, just **_**hoping **_**you'll hear it…**"

I was crying now. His voice kept cracking pitifully. He sounded broken and tired. I wanted to reach through the phone and just hold him. He'd been here…just three days ago; I'd been talking and laughing with him, worrying only about my reputation and his love-life. Now…now I was alone. By now, he must be dead…

His voice returned to the line, "**And…Kyle? I…I love you, man. You're my best friend and I always thought we were even closer than brothers. You always understood me better than anyone, you knew when there was something to say and just how you should say it… I just want to thank you for being part of my life. **

"**I'm sorry to put all this on you, Kyle. I'm sorry for suspecting automatically that you'd be the one to find this. I'm sorry for leaving like this to clean up, but more than anything…I'm sorry that I couldn't **_**talk**_** to you…**" and the line went dead.

I wanted to break down and cry for a few hours, or maybe a few days…but, I glanced at the voicemail information. The call was received at noon. It was about four. Stan hadn't said an exact time, but he said that he'd be killed tonight. Maybe, if we hurried, we could get to Denver fast enough…

I called Kenny as I ran downstairs. He picked up on the other line, voice groggy like he was waking up from a nap. "Kenny!" I shouted into the phone, successfully waking him up. "Kenny, Stan's been kidknapped and his parents have to kill him _tonight, _we might have less than an hour to get him back before he's _dead_!" I yelled.

"What?" he said, the seriousness of my tone automatically convincing him. I heard him scrambling for something on the other line. "Alright! Come over and pick me up!" he said, not even waiting for the information. He could tell I was in a hurry and he could get the details on the way there.

I ran downstairs, almost tripping and falling. "Mom!" I yelled into the kitchen. She was baking bread in the oven and her hair was covered in flour. "Mom! You have to drive me to Denver…_please_…"

"Well, why, bubbi?" she said calmly.

"_Please_! Stan's in trouble and he might die!"

She tried to insist that we call Stan's parents, but I just snapped at her that they were with Stan. When she heard that her friend Sharon was in trouble, she immediately grabbed me by the collar and practically dragged me out to the car.

"Wait! Mom, I need to stop at Cartman's!" I blurted.

"Why?" she demanded, throwing me into the passenger seat, flooring us backwards out of the driveway, tipping over a trashcan, and leaving the neighbors screaming furiously.

"I can track the phone number to an exact building if I use Cartmans Coon computer…he's got all kinds of spy equipment from when we wanted to be international spies." Mom began driving toward his house. "It can find where a call was made from within a fifty-foot radius, even if it's from a restricted number," I said, holding onto the side of the door to keep myself from crashing through the window. My mom could be a fucking _crazy_ bitch when she wanted to be (not always in a bad way).

"And you're _sure_ that he's in danger? You're not overreacting?" she confirmed, spinning the wheel furiously.

"Listen," I said, setting the phone on speaker. "Stan wouldn't joke about this…"

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><p><em>So, this is almost resolved, i promise. Then afterwards, I'll heat up Stan and Kyle's relationship a bit because I know I'm being slow. I'm so sorry. Review plz XD<em>


	9. Tom Selleck's a skin?

_As I was proofing this I realized…the closet is sorta metaphorical… ahahah_

_More Kenny in this chapter. Kenny isn't __**dumb**__ like a lot of people make him out to be, he's just poor, perverted, and very unlucky, those are his only given character flaws, so I'm tired of people making him stupid. There, I'm done ranting._

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><p>MARSH<p>

I hung up, sniffling and eyes watering freely. I still felt like there was a lot left to say, but I didn't have time for it. I was taken back to my closet after making the call. I could hear my parents outside the door, screaming and probably being beaten. I shouted through the door for them to stop, but that only made the beatings sound harsher.

I'd realized by now that, even though they agreed to kill me, they still had to be scared into silence. I wondered what my dad could've seen that was bad enough to cause this much trouble.

I didn't know what time it was or why they were allowing me to live a few extra hours. The only thing I'd been promised was a final phone call, and I'd been given it. Why weren't they just getting it over with and shooting me in the head? Did they want to fuck with my brain? Was I to just die of starvation in this closet? Maybe I was just supposed to live through the extra torturous hours of fear and anticipation…

I distracted myself with my thoughts; with my memories. I thought about all my favorite adventures; all my favorite people. I thought about the times I'd rather forget and the people I'd rather not know. I thought until I drove myself insane.

…

MCCORMICK

Stan was in trouble and that's _all_ I needed to know. If his parents were being forced to kill him, than it would just have to be…someone who looked like him that they killed…

The second Kyle hung up; I redialed the phone and called in a favor from a certain redneck war-veteran in relation to the damsel in distress. Ever since that camping trip we'd gone on about seven years ago, Stan's uncle Jimbo had a soft spot for me; said I was a "right little bastard" or some shit like that… I was sure he could conjure an army of rednecks…I told him to watch for the Brovflovski family hybrid and get all his friends to follow it…and bring guns...

I stared into the mirror, scrutinizing my reflection; I hoped this would be sufficient. I tucked my hair into my hood and pulled the strings tight around my face. I ran outside to see Kyle's mom driving her car into the side of my house. The wall tumbled down and my sister started screaming, mom started cussing out my dad in some sort of drunken stupor, and I just ignored it all, running and climbing into the backseat. Mrs. Brovflovski peeled out of the driveway, performing a u-e and flooring it down Main Street.

Kyle turned around in his seat to give me the details. "Kenny, Stan is being kept in Denver…his dad saw some gang activity and called out a skinhead. They have to kill him now if they want to go free because the Skins want something to use as blackmail material so they won't rat on them," he said, mouth moving faster than the car we were riding in.

"That fucking retard!" I sighed.

"Mr. McCormick! Watch your language!" Sheila reminded me, swerving for an old lady.

"Yes ma'am…" I muttered, gripping onto the backseat for dear life. Kyle just shook his head at his mother. "Well, did you find where _exactly_ he is?" I asked seriously.

"Yes. We went to Cartman's and his mom let us use his spy equipment in the basement. The voicemail he left was given through a phone in an old tire factory. It shut down twenty years ago. I'm guessing it's being used as some sort of refurbished headquarters for the gang… We need a plan…"

"I've already got one…" I said calmly. "Mrs. Brovflovski, I'll need you to distract the gang members somehow, just for a minute, then reinforcements will come in for you. Kyle…let me hear that message again," I ordered.

"Um…yeah," he said, turning around and pulling Stan's phone out of his pocket. He dialed the voicemail key and held it up to my ear. I listened intently…getting the information I needed.

"Alright, it sounds like Cartman's there…" I muttered, furious.

"Yeah…" Kyle said. "I think he's one of them. It would make sense; they're the closest thing to Nazis that's left. I'd bet he's the one who's keeping guarding wherever they're keeping Stan."

"You're probably right," I muttered, rubbing my neck in thought. "Kyle, you hold Cartman off. I'll try to get Stan out of there in the mean time. If we're caught, well…" My voice drifted off. Kyle's attention narrowed on me, sensing the necessity to. He stared me in the eye. I took a deep breath and tugged off my hood. I didn't like showing my face, but just this once…

"Oh my God… You're…Kenny you look just like…"

"I dyed my hair and straightened it. Stan and I have the same eye color, so I figured if worse came to worse, I could at least try to confuse them. I figured that Stan was kidnapped over the weekend since he wasn't in this week, so I brought some clothes that look like the ones he was wearing on Saturday. I can be his double…"

I'd looked a lot like Stan when I'd looked into the mirror. Stan had a softer face because he was better fed, and he was a bit taller than me. But, with straight black hair and eyebrows, I could easily pass for him if I stood up tall.

"Kenny!" Kyle cried, absolutely mortified. "You might get killed!"

I sighed. It really _was_ flattering when people got all worked up over my life being in danger, but right now, I didn't need this. "Don't you realize Kyle?" I yelled over the sound of the rumble strips on the highway. Mrs. Brovflovski was driving on the side of the highway to avoid traffic. "_You're_ the one putting your life in danger!" I shouted.

I hated it when they did this, but there was never anything I could do to stop them. They were _always_ putting themselves in some sort of dangerous situations. They took their lives so lightly. If one of my friends died…sure it might be nice to be able to see some close friends in heaven (or hell), but they wouldn't be able to come back. They would be _dead_. It was a completely different story for me.

"It's different!" he replied. "I'm not pretending to be someone that's on the Skins' deathlist! This is suicide!"

"Worry about yourself Kyle!" I said, pulling my hood back up. I knew he could take care of himself, but he usually had Stan to protect him too. I couldn't be there for everyone… I was more worried about them than me…

…

MARSH

The sound of screaming outside stopped…finally. I sat and stared at the little sliver of light that slipped under the crack of the door. I waited for the door to open and to be thrown out into the crowd of racist pigs.

There were a few minutes of confused silence for me. It sounded like _everyone_ had just…left? I scooted forward on the floor and pressed my ear to the side of the door, trying to listen closer. I heard…no…it couldn't be…

"THEY'RE COMING RIGHT AT US!"

A smile slowly grew on my face and I didn't even realize it was there. Uncle Jimbo was here? That would explain the sound of a Rem 700 Bolt Action hunting rifle… I heard other familiar voices as well. Ned was here, and the woodshop teacher from my elementary school, I heard the local drug store owner, the train conductor, and the Cattle Ranch owner. What was going on out there? My shitty, fucked up town had finally done something and was coming to save me?

The lock on the door jiggled for a second, but it didn't open. I stared up at the handle in confused awe. "Stan?" a vaguely familiar voice called through the door. It sounded young and so very recognizable yet I couldn't put a face with it... "Stan, if you're in there…get away from the doorknob…"

I decided it was probably best to get out of the way. I scrambled back into the corner of the closet and hid behind a broom. The lock suddenly blew off the door, flying back into the wall and leaving a deep indentation. The closet opened and I stood.

"Are you alright?" the voice said. I stepped around the door and met eyes with Kenny. It had been so long since I'd heard his voice un-muffled that I'd forgotten what it sounded like. He had his hood up, but his mouth was uncovered so he could shout orders to his army of rednecks. He was wearing jeans instead of his usual orange sweats, but he still had his hoodie.

"I'm fine, what's happening?" I said, brushing off my pants. I smelled like Ajax bleach…

"Kyle got your message. His mom drove us here, and I called in some backup. We've got to get you out of here while they're all being held off…before the police show up," he said seriously.

I stared at him in awe.

"What?" he demanded impatiently.

"You're…actually _doing something_, Kenny?"

He just pinched his eyes closed in frustration. "We need to _leave_!"

"Right, lead the way," I said, grinning. He rolled his eyes, but took my hand nonetheless and began running taking me in tow.

We ran outside into the back courtyard of the factory and ducked down behind a brick wall. There was nothing but fighting _all around_ the building. There was no way out except through a rain of missiles. It wasn't like it would be the first time we were in this situation…sadly.

Kenny tensed notably, his feet stirring the gravel nervously. I tossed him a reassuring look before crouching in a takeoff position, ready to sprint through the crossfire. My arm was suddenly grabbed and I was yanked backwards, out of Kenny's grip and back into the factory. The fighting had spread inside.

Kenny was running after me, he grabbed my ankle. I craned my neck up to see the one who had dragged me away.

"Cartman! You fat fuck! Let him go!" a new voice shouted. It was a smooth voice with a demanding and forceful sort of air to it. I liked this voice, it was comforting.

I reached up with my other arm and dug my fingernails into Cartman's hand, prying his fingers off my wrist. He dropped me and I stood, scrambling out of the way. Kenny let go and stood in front of me protectively. I searched the room, trying to find Kyle

It was hard to find him, but I saw a flash of red hair and recognized him. Kyle was being held by some bear-like giant. He was kicking and thrashing wildly, but the mammoth man made Kyle look like a child. "CARTMAN! I'M GOING TO FUCKING TEAR YOUR FAT EYES OUT!" he screamed furiously.

The bear that was holding him swung him into a wall, "Don't threaten Tom Selleck!" he shouted, beating my friend into the wall again. Kyle went limp.

"Oh my God! Kyle!" I cried. I pushed Kenny out of the way and threw myself at the giant. He kicked me off. I couldn't get close enough to reach Kyle. I needed to stop and analyze how to do this…

The eight-foot-tall man stood slightly to the right. His shoulders were slanted, so he either had scoliosis or a weak leg. I noted that he stood with his weight balanced on his right, so that _had_ to be his weak side. I ran back to the closet and grabbed the broom.

When I came back out, Kyle was unconscious, Kenny had Cartman in a headlock, and the several rednecks had managed to get drunk and were beating the shit out of everything in sight with the blunt ends of their rifles while singing. I turned back to Kenny. He had Cartman tied to the metal staircase to the upstairs office of the factory. The fat lard was screaming and crying.

I ran to the giant and smashed the point of the broomstick into the back of his right kneecap when his back was turned. He crumpled to the floor and dropped Kyle. I broke the broom over his head, knocking him out.

I leaned over Kyle and gently felt his head for any bad bumps. He had a small knot that seemed to be getting worse. After a moment, the adrenaline wore off and I realized something very obvious. Kyle had gotten his hair cut… It was soft…wow…

…um…anyway…

I pulled my hand away and continued checking for bruises. His arms and legs weren't broken, but his knuckles were cracked open and bleeding. He still had the bruise from my punching him on Friday, but it was faded and was blending nicely.

That's when I noticed his glasses were gone too…and…where was his orange coat? What happened? When did he get this little…makeover? This was hardly _Kyle_ anymore… When had all this happened? Why had he done this without me?

"FOUND HIM!" someone screamed behind me. I turned and jumped to my feet, startled. It was my dad… His face was bruised with a blackened eye and a missing tooth. He was running inside from the back courtyard. My mom was dashing in after him also sporting new black splotches all over her. "IF WE KILL HIM THIS WILL ALL BE OVER, SHARON!"

"RANDY!" my mom shouted, furiously. "Don't you _dare_ kill our son!"

My stomach was caught in my throat. My dad was really this dumb! Was he drunk? He was carrying a loaded rifle. Oh…God…please…

BANG!

* * *

><p><em>So, that was exciting wasn't it? I always rush the actiony scenes. But, there's always a lot going on at a time. So that's a bit of a cliffhanger. Kenny is Stan's double and if Kenny was shot it ould just be part of his plan, but Kenny never had time to change into Stan's clothes, so there's the possibility that it was <strong>stan<strong> who was shot...next chapter out sometime tomorrow probably. _

_Review plzplzplzplz...reviews are awesome~_


	10. Google dot com

_Sorry if this sounds rushed. I'm making it a priority to upload as quickly as possible because i **really** hate waiting months and months for continuations of my favorite stories..._

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

I winced and braced myself to die. But, even after the gun went off, I still felt fine. I ran my hands over my torso, checking for gunshot wounds…bullet holes…anything… I was fine.

I looked up to see my mother weeping over a dead body that looked _just_ like me… What the _hell_? I glanced at Kyle. I needed to get us both out of here. Where was Kenny? I couldn't lift Kyle all on my own…

I needed help. Hopefully, my parents would be satisfied with killing my…look-a-like, and they would help me. When I looked back over to them, my dad was crying hysterically and clawing at the gun that my mom held out of his reach. They had left "my" dead body lying on the floor near where Cartman was tied off to the stairs.

Well…_they_ were useless. I wanted to know what the deal was with this identical twin I suddenly had. I walked over to the body and looked down. "Oh…my _God…_THEY KILLED KENNY!"

"Ugh…you bastards," I heard a mumble from across the room. Maybe I was listening too hard for it…for some reason, but I noticed it. My head shot up.

Kyle was sitting up and rubbing his head, eyes scrunched closed in pain. He looked exhausted and beaten. I walked back over to where he was sitting and knelt next to him. I put a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, do you think you can-" I choked on my own tongue.

Kyle…was…well, let's just say that if people are sent to hell for thinking their same-gender best friends are hot, than…God damn me. Kyle opened his eyes and stretched, groaning a little. His hair bounced gently on his head when he moved too much, and his mouth didn't bulge out from braces anymore. Instead, he had a cute, delicate little mouth with thin, pouty lips. I'd stumbled all over my own words when I saw his eyes. They opened languidly, remaining half-lidded for a moment before opening their entirety. They were a deep, dark hazel. They cornered me and I was trapped, staring. "Stan?" he said. "Are you alright?"

I tried to talk, but all that came out was a gurgling sound. I coughed and quickly reminded myself that this was _Kyle_. Kyle was my best friend; the type of friend that I could be a different person around. It didn't matter what I said or did, he'd still be there for me. I could mess around with him, be totally annoying, totally emo, or totally homo around him and he wouldn't care and wouldn't question where we stood. We'd _always_ be friends.

Since the seventh grade, he was nerdy. He had braces, glasses, a jew-fro, and the occasional pimple. But, it wasn't like I cared all that much. He really wasn't _ugly_ or anything. He just didn't try anymore.

I think he'd learned that appearances are superficial when the girls made that list of who was the "best-looking" and it said he was last. Of course, he wasn't _really _last. He was really second, right after Token, but the girls always swooned for the black guys… I felt really bad about the whole situation. He seemed…crushed even though he pretended not to care. When it was all over, I didn't even care that he was voted better-looking than me.

I sort of had to agree anyway. I _did_ come up a third, right behind him. But, he'd always had some seriously hot features. Like, his tapered, pert chin, his captivating dark eyes (even when they were hidden with geeky glasses), his lean figure, and large eloquent hands. He was maybe an inch taller than me, but he slouched. His skin wasn't _pale_, but it was very even, and to tell the truth, he hadn't really had any acne since middle school. His complexion stayed pretty even.

I admired…everything about my best friend. But, he really let his sense of upkeep go. He stopped _trying_ to maintain his hair, wearing different clothes every day, and he got glasses and braces. He went from being the second hottest to the "most likely to die alone". (The girls made some pretty harsh lists)

I loved him anyway. He was still the same loud and defiant Jew he'd always been. He was always the morale voice behind my actions and the driving force behind most of my success.

He was the smartest guy I knew. He made almost perfect grades. His parents would immediately be up his ass if he didn't. Surprisingly, he barely did any work. He was in all seminar classes during freshman year and had everything planned to take all college-level classes by next year, junior year.

This was Kyle.

This was my best friend.

This was what I relied on being true.

But, what was this? I didn't know what to think of this change. So, I said the first thing that popped into my head when I saw him, "Fag…"

He just chuckled and punched me lightly on the arm, leaving a little blood splotch from his bloody knuckles. He glanced at my shoulder and frowned, bringing his hands up to his eyes to inspect the damage. "I'm pretty beat up aren't I?" he muttered.

I just stared at him.

"Ah, yeah…the make-over wasn't _my_ idea…" he snorted at the thought. "We'd better get out of here," he suggested, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head where I'd found the knot.

I didn't really know what to say anymore. I suddenly felt really awkward around him. It was stupid…he was the same person and this didn't change what we were to each other… I couldn't stop staring at him. It was stupid because I'd seen him millions of times.

"I bet I could hotwire one of the trucks…can you drive yet?" he said, pulling me back to the task at hand.

"I…I know _how_, but it's not legal, and we'll get pulled over. Just find your mom!"

"I can't…she's impossible to move when she's in fight-mode…" he whined.

"Than I'll call Jimbo…"

"Just drive the fucking truck!" Kyle snapped as a bullet wizzed _way_ too close to his ear for comfort. He ripped up the hood and found the battery, quickly swapping around wires. "Alright, get moving and help me find the starter solenoid. This is a Ford, so I think it's on the passenger side's fender well..." he said, sending me an expectant look.

I hesitated before opening the passenger's door and looked for anything with "starter solenoid" written on it. This was useless…

"If you don't know what I'm talking about, than just get behind the wheel," he sighed, leaning back under the hood and moving the battery aside. I got behind the wheel and the car revved. He closed the hood and covered his head as he ran through gunfire to get to the passenger side. "Drive!"

I did as he said and stepped on the gas, swerving the car around people in the streets. Police cars were flooding into the building, but all the cops were too preoccupied trying to get the gun war under control to care that a fifteen-year-old was driving a Ford F-150 away from the scene.

I pulled us out of the traffic into the empty city street. It was late and sunlight was almost completely faded. I glanced at my controls in this thing and flicked on the low beams. I just concentrated on keeping us in between the lines and following the arrows we needed to follow. Kyle gave me directions most of the way since he actually _knew_ where we were…

"So…where did you learn to hotwire a car?" I said conversationally as if it were a _normal_ thing.

He laughed, "Google…"

"You're fucking insane, Kyle. Hotwiring is illegal and extremely dangerous! You could've been electrocuted! And, what were you thinking, coming after me! I told you that I'd be dead! You're only job was to get my last words out to everyone!" I said, becoming angry for no apparent reason.

He stared at me, confused. I glanced over, returning my eyes to the road, back to him, then back to the road. "What the hell? I just saved your _life_!" he said agitated. "You can't get mad at me! You were going to be shot by your own parents! Instead, Kenny sacrificed himself for _your_ sake! You can't be so selfish!"

I sighed. "You don't get it Kyle…I'd come to terms with dying. I was perfectly ready to go through with it if it meant that my parents and sister would be spared. I didn't _want_ Kenny to die! I didn't _want_ to be rescued… I just wanted to let it go."

He folded his arms over his chest huffily. He was silent for a few minutes, just seething out until he had gathered all his thoughts. The yellow lines on the road merged into one long strip as we entered the highway and accelerated.

Kyle stared out the window, mumbling something quietly so I couldn't really hear it.

"What?" I inquired calmly.

"Maybe _I_ didn't just want to let _you_ go," he said firmly, much louder this time.

I turned and stared at him until we hit the rumble strips and he had to yell at me to watch the road. I smiled, but I kept it small so he didn't notice. "Kyle, I didn't want to _leave_. I just wanted to keep everyone safe…"

"Well, that isn't _your_ job. I understand that you want to do what you can, but you don't have to be everyone's hero. Sometimes it has to be every man for himself… Learn how to pick which fights are _yours_ and which sacrifices are _yours_ to make. You dad fucked up. He almost got himself killed. But that _should __**not**_ mean that you have to sacrifices yourself to fix his mistake…"

I gripped the steering wheel tightly. "I know… But, sometimes I _do_… If I want to keep the people I love, sometimes I have to put myself in danger. Kenny understood this…" I choked at his name. Kenny had made the ultimate sacrifice…for me? Why would he do that? I didn't know we were so close.

I suddenly felt really guilty for acting like the martyr… Kenny had died for _me_; so that _I_ could keep living, not so that I could sacrifice myself for someone he didn't care about. But, still…it wasn't like I would just let my parents die if I knew I could prevent it.

"Stan…" Kyle said, staring out the windshield. I looked over at him briefly to show that he had my attention. He was staring at me, smiling calmly. "I just wanted to make sure you know...I love you too, man…"

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><p><em>Daww...ain't dat sweet? Next chapter is Kyle's POV... Review plz?<em>


	11. Double Nutcracker

_I was alerted to some of the spelling errors I've been making, and I'm very aware that I screw up every once and awhile, but forgive me? It's a small price to pay for daily updates right? It still makes sense, yes?_

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><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

"Stan…I love you too, man," I said calmly. I stared out the front windshield. We were almost to town. "So, next time you think about doing something dumb, just think about how it will affect the people who love you. Next time, call someone for help sooner."

He stared ahead, expressionless. "We…we should probably just leave the truck in farmer Baker's yard…this _is_ his truck, right?"

"Yeah…" I replied. I was _not_ done talking about this though…

I think Stan has a problem… He doesn't seem to take his simple importance very seriously. He seems to think that he has to always be a hero to keep people liking him. It really shouldn't matter, but it always gets him into situations.

It wouldn't bother me if it weren't for the fact that I usually the one who he saved, and then I had to feel like some sort of needy "damsel in distress" as Cartman called me. Why couldn't Stan just be a kid and be selfish? I know I'd told him _not_ to be selfish, but by thinking he was dispensable, he _was_ being selfish…ah, it doesn't make sense.

Anyway, I was sick of feeling like I couldn't handle myself. I tried to take control of situations, but he always stole the opportunity. I always just fucked things up and had to call for help…

After a long car ride of psychoanalyzing my best friend, I'd come to the conclusion that Stan has a hero complex. He's constantly in this perpetual cycle of feeling bored or unloved then trying to prove himself worthy through good deeds.

I realize that it would be hypocritical to say I don't feel the same. But, I think we all do… Stan's situation was only different because he has put me in a situation several times where I have to fear for his life because he won't do it for himself.

Ah, I'm tired of thinking. I turned on the radio as we entered South Park again. "So dude, did you kiss Wendy?" I said curiously.

"No…" he admitted. "I was on my way to do it when the fat sack of talking shit kidnapped me."

"Ohoho…I like that new name…I'll us it next time we talk to him…" I said happily. It was an exciting prospect to have new insults for Cartman just _handed_ to me. Considering all the trouble he was causing me… The next time I saw him, he was getting kicked in the balls…

Stan laughed. "So, did you patch things up with Rebecca?"

"Yep. She promised to clear my name for me. It was surprisingly easy…" I said smiling.

He grinned. The streetlights illuminated his face with an orangeish glow that wavered every few seconds just to return completely as we drove under a new light. It was good to see him put back together so soon after the break up. I guess when your life is put in danger, you sort of put things into perspective…

He drove surprisingly well, but it wasn't like he'd never had practice. "So, I'm guessing that with this new look and your datability, you're going to have girls _all over you_…" he said supportively.

I frowned at him. "You know I'm not into the dating stuff… It's all superficial," I muttered, letting myself fall back into the chair and just sinking there. Why does he have to care about this stuff?

"I dunno…it might make you happy," Stan said.

I snorted, "Do I seem unhappy to you?"

He shrugged. "I'd guess you'd do whatever makes you happy, and I guess you know what that is," he said, smiling at me. I snorted again, _damn right I know what makes me happy_. "So…about this new look…?"

"Ah…don't even start, _please_," I begged. "It was my mom's idea. I _only_ agreed to get contacts. She swindled me into the hair cut and clothes…"

"Well, it looks good," he said honestly. He swallowed thickly. "_You_ look good…"

I snickered, punching him in the arm. "And, you call _me_ the fag?"

He smiled awkwardly, pulling into farmer Baker's gravel driveway and pressing the brakes. He put the car in park and turned to me. "So, guess we're on foot from here?"

"Yeah…" I muttered. I got out of the car and replaced all the wires I'd fucked with. The car shut off. Stan was waiting, leaning against the side of the car when I shut the hood and walked around to the other side. "Let's go…" I said calmly.

It was about a mile through town to his house. Mine was just a bit further into the neighborhood. I let him borrow my coat since his had apparently been taken. I was wearing long sleeves anyway. I didn't mind the cold. It was better than sweating to death in the summer, and it had always given me an excuse to wear the hat that my mom hated so much.

We walked in silence. I contented myself to listening to the crunching of our feet in the snow. It was times like these when, we could get away without saying anything. There was a mutual pact to momentary silence, so it didn't feel awkward at all. I glanced at my watch. It was almost midnight already. Tomorrow was going to be another long day wasn't it?

We stopped at his front door and he reached under the mat for the key. "So," I began, breaking the pact, "how do you think your parents will react when they see you alive?" I spoke conversationally, wanting to keep him just a few more minutes.

He just shook his head, frowning in thought. "I hope they'll let the whole thing go. I _really_ don't want to talk about it…especially not with them…"

There was a moment of awkward silence where the air went stale and it wasn't our usual relaxation with each other. I wanted to continue our earlier conversation, but apparently he didn't want to dredge it back up… I didn't know what kinds of terror he'd seen while he was trapped with the gang, but he needed to just suck it up, because I needed to tell him.

"Stan…next time you're going to get yourself killed, call me, okay?" I said. "I'm here for you…"

He glared at me. "I didn't want them to track my call and hunt you down!" he said, getting all defensive when I said that, trying to justify his actions. His theory was invalid. He didn't seem to realize that if _he_ died, I would probably go soon after. I'd already proven unable to survive the world without his help. He continued, "It wasn't _your_ fight and I didn't want to get you involved. I was just trying to prote-"

"I DON'T NEED PROTECTING!" I snapped harshly. His hurt expression immediately calmed me down. I sighed. "Stan, we're in this together, okay?" I concluded. "If it were me…I don't think you'd want me to leave my will behind as a voicemail on a phone."

His mouth opened, trying to protest, but he didn't have anything to say to that. He had no idea how much this was bothering me. How could he just give up so easily without even considering asking for my help? Didn't he trust me at _all_? Did he think that I couldn't save him if I tried?

"If you're in trouble, than there's a way that we can get out, you know that. How many times have we done this sort of thing? If you would've just called me, we could've made it sooner. You're lucky Kenny was able to get Jimbo's help…"

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, half-assing an apology. I guess he had his reasons for not calling even if I didn't agree with them. He opened the front door and let himself inside, leaving me standing on his doorstep. I let it go. There wasn't anything else I could say.

When I got home, my dad and Ike were sitting in the living room, avidly watching the news. "Kyle Brovflovski!" my dad shouted as I stepped inside. I sighed, closing the door behind myself.

"So, you've seen the news… Am I in trouble?"

"You started a gang war? And, you got your _mother_ involved?" he shouted, furious.

"How long am I grounded?" I said, begging him to just get to the point.

"I'll let your mother decide… But _go to bed_!" he said, trying to sound threatening. It was almost laughable. We both knew that mom was the disciplinary figure.

"Gladly…" I muttered. I was exhausted. My legs felt thick and heavy as I walked upstairs and tossed myself on my bed, not bothering to change.

I had pretty weird and completely unrelated nightmares. The first one was about being blind in my left eye, the second was about being eaten by a bear, and the last was about the return of the necronomicon. God…my brain's pretty fucked up right now.

I only got five hours of sleep, which to be truthful, wasn't that bad, but I didn't finish _any_ of my homework. I guess my grades could spare a few zeros…

"Here, let me clean up those bruises, bubbi…" mom said as I walked into the kitchen, still wearing my glasses and rubbing my hair dry with a towel. It was too early to worry about bruises…

I sat down and ate my wheat cereal while she dabbed my face with an ice pack. She set an asprin next to my glass of milk, kissed my forehead, and left for work. I frowned, glaring down into my cereal.

Things always went back to normal so quickly in this fucked up little town. I packed up my backpack, slung it over my shoulder and continued my routine. I walked to the bus stop up the street and met up with Stan and Kenny.

Stan seemed pretty upset still. But, this time, I'd let him work it out on his own. Kenny yawned, making me yawn, and Stan followed. Why is yawning contagious? Maybe I should look it up… I searched it on my phone.

"Hm…" I muttered. "Kenny, I guess you own my soul, and I own Stan's…" I said, reading off the internet.

"What?" they said in groggy unison.

"Says that if someone yawns because you yawned, then you own their soul…" I turned to Stan. "I own your soul."

"Good for you…" he muttered. We need at least _one_ person who's a morning person here. I mean, really.

"G'morning, faggots~!" a certain fat asshole said, waddling up to us from his side of the neighborhood.

I remembered last night's promise to myself and I stepped in front of him. "Fat sack of talking shit-" I grunted, lifting my leg and kicking him in the balls as hard as I could. I looked down to see another foot had joined mine in its endeavor. I turned; Stan was standing in the same position as me, his foot also rammed into Cartman's scrotum.

Kenny just giggled into his hood. "Double nutcracker~" he teased.

Cartman fell to the ground crying. I just turned my back, not caring when he tried to grab my leg and ask for help standing. The bus pulled up and we took all our usual seats. I glanced out the window, hugging my backpack in my lap.

"Here," Stan said to get my attention. I glanced over. He was holding out my orange coat. "I forgot to give it back yesterday."

"Thanks…"

And so, everything was normal again. Well, besides all the stares and gazes I received now. Was this what it was like for Stan? People had never found me attractive, so this was a new thing for me. I was sure Stan had gotten this kind of treatment _all_ the time. I wasn't sure if I liked it.

I mean…I didn't like it when _I_ got it, okay? It was just fine if people stared at him…

I decided to eat lunch with Rebecca. She hardly ever had anyone eat with her. I guess people were too afraid that she might rub off on them (in multiple ways). I set down my tray and sat tentatively, waiting to see how she'd react.

"Morning," she greeted through a mouthful of food.

"Ah…yea, good morning," I said nervously. I took a bite of my kosher roast beef sandwich.

She looked up at me as if she wanted to say something, but decided against it. She just chewed up whatever was in her mouth and swallowed. I glanced over at her, noting how skinny she was. Her cheek bones were poking out a bit and her fingers were thin. She was pale too.

"I see you got a haircut. It looks good," she complimented, stabbing a piece of potato off her tray.

"Ah…thanks," I said quietly. This was so awkward.

"…You don't have to eat with me if you don't want to," she said finally.

"I…_do_!" I reassured her, lying through my teeth.

"No you don't," she said smartly. "You're just eating with me because you feel like you need to be nice to me now since I helped you."

"_That's_ not it!" I said defensively. "I just wanted to make sure you know that…um…" I dropped my voice. "There _is_ a cure…"

"Yes, I know. But, you see, I don't have a hundred-thousand dollars," she snapped. I guess it was sort of obvious that she wouldn't…

"Well…I've got some rich friends; maybe I could call in a favor?" I offered.

She turned to me, smiling broadly, biting her lip. "Do you think it would work?" she said, eyes filling with hopeful tears.

"Well, all I can say is that I'll _try_…" I promised. She jumped up, tackling me with the tightest hug I'd ever experienced. I was thrown off my chair and we fell over onto the floor. The entire lunchroom went silent and everyone turned to stare.

"Thank you _so_ much, Kyle! I love you!" she cried, tears flowing from her eyes onto my shoulder.

All I could think the entire time was "_Oh my God…she's crying- …bodily fluids…keep away from me…keep away._" I gently tried to pry her arms off without offending her.

"Get your diseased paws off him you _bitch_!" I heard a shrill voice squeal behind us. We both turned to see Red, Jennifer, Bebe, and Kelly all glaring down at us.

"Hey, seriously girls? You shouldn't talk to her like-" I began, but Kelly leaned over, ripping Rebecca off me. I was thankful to be free, but the moment I was, the cat-fight started.

I scrambled away, knowing that the police officers would come with the tazers…

**-on the bus-**

"It was _crazy_, dude!" Kenny said excitedly. "Rebecca was all over him and all the other girls were like '_He's mine __**bitch**_,' and Kyle's just kinda sitting there like 'What the _hell_…?' It was so funny! The whole lunchroom was watching!"

Stan just glanced at me to weight my reaction to the day's events. In truth, I found it all very tiring. Cartman was glaring at me, but what's out of the ordinary there?

Kenny sighed contentedly. "I told you the make-over was a good idea. You've got chicks fighting over you _all over the place_…" I swear; there was a hint of jealousy in his voice.

"If I had girls getting tazed because of _me_ I'd be _soooo happy_," Craig said dreamily in the seat behind us.

"Shut up Craig!" Cartman snapped. "Nobody likes you!"

"No, fat lard, nobody likes _you_," he replied calmly.

"I'm not fat; I'm big-boned, you nasally little-"

"No Cartman," I interrupted calmly. "He's right. Nobody likes you…and you _are_ fat…_very_ _**very **_fat."

"I _will_ get you Jew…I don't know what kind of pagan witchcraft you put the girls under in this school, but they're out of their minds to think you look any better than you did before."

"Just shut up, Cartman," Stan sighed.

"Seriously," Craig added behind us. "Quit being so jealous Cartman."

"Jealous of a _Jew_?" he snorted, turning in his seat as if the debate was won on that one little point.

Stan let his head fall onto the window dejectedly. I glanced over at him, feeling suddenly concerned. "Hey, what's wrong?" I said curiously.

"Just tired…" he lied.

I stared at him. It _would_ make sense if he was tired, but for some reason, I had the impression it was much more than that. He had that kicked puppy appearance again. "Oh, God damnit…its Wendy isn't it?" I said, confidently.

"Not now, Kyle…" he muttered.

"Well, if it isn't her, than it must be your parents?" I pried. "How did they react?"

"They're _fine_, Kyle. Your mom drove them home and they're just a bit bruised. My dad was totally drunk and couldn't even _remember_ last night. My mom was just glad to see that I was alright… It's all fine."

"Well…that's good. So, it must be Wendy then," I said, continuing to pry. He didn't seem to appreciate my curiosity as much as he should have.

He just glared at me. "Kyle, let it go. Not now," he said, body tensing noticeably.

The bus stopped at our stop and I had to stand and get off. The four of us filed down the stairs and watched the bus peel away from the stop. I didn't intend to let Stan's issue just slip past me. He'd _never_ had an issue talking to me before. Why now?

We waved to Kenny as he turned into his driveway. It was just me and Stan again. I _needed_ to know what his issue was. He waved to me lethargically as he turned into his driveway and walked to his front door. However, I waited a second until he turned around and I followed him, stopping the front door with my arm when he tried to close it.

"May…I come in?" I said politely.

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><p><em>Ah~ I feel so special. I love all your reviews :D <em>

_Internet was down on my laptop…I tried to fix the adapter, but our wifi is just being overpowered by one of our neighbors. I had to get a flashdrive to put this up on the home computer. P.S. to Kooly, thanks for the song, I love it XD Wrote this whole chapter listening to it. (over and over of course)_


	12. Teacher Works Overtime

_I've secured a method to stay ahead in chapters so i can upload daily for a least anouther week (then i've got exams to focus on sry). If i don't update daily, I'll do it weekly at least. If i'm ever late, just bitch about it until i update. _

_Okay, so last chapter was just a long dialogue from Kyle, so here's this to make up for it: a long chapter of fluff to celebrate a new episode tonight! _

_It's all fluff...Srsly, it is…(shocking right?)_

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><p>MARSH<p>

I can't believe we still tolerate Cartman… He was getting so fucking jealous over Kyle that it was sort of funny. I would've laughed when his face turned purple over Kenny's story, but I was feeling sort of depressed.

It had been a long day back. I had shit tons of make-up work since the teachers were piling us down as we approached the end of the year. I'd tried talking to Wendy, but I still couldn't kiss her. It didn't make any sense…why was I always so nervous around her? I love her right, so then it should come easily, right?

Then there was the fact that my parents had tried to sacrifice me for their own sake…it didn't really bother me, but I was trying to figure out how I'd hold it over their heads. Maybe they'd buy me a car to apologize…

Also, there was the fact that Kyle had just had a cat fight break out over him. I wondered how long it would be until some girl sucked him into the whole dating scene and I'd have to share his time. I _liked_ being his main focus…

"Hey, what's wrong?" Kyle said next to me, voice filled with concern. I could feel his stare against the side of my face and I tried to ignore the heat rushing to my cheeks.

"Just tired…" I lied.

His stare bore deeper into my face. "Oh…Goddamnit…its Wendy isn't it?" he said surely.

How the fuck could he tell? Was I just some open book to him? How much could he read? "Not now, Kyle…" I mumbled.

"Well, if it isn't her, than it must be your parents?" he guessed. "How did they react?"

I summarized the events that took place in the Marsh household last night. It really hadn't been any different from any other night at my place. But, when he heard it wasn't home issues, he just returned to Wendy again. Why the fuck does he have to be such a good friend and try to get me to talk to him?

"Kyle, let it go. Not now," I said shortly. I didn't want to talk about all the fucking emotions that were filing through my head right now. I'd sound like a total pussy.

We walked home together…we did _every_ day. But, today…it was silent. What had happened to us? Were we arguing or something? He was usually a chatterbox and I couldn't get him to shut up about some thing or another. We'd been growing slowly more and more awkward with each other since last Friday.

I waved him off as I walked into my driveway. I unlocked the door and let myself inside, but when I tried to close the door behind myself, it jolted. I turned. There was Kyle again, a determined expression on his features and his arm firmly holding the door open.

"May…I come in?" he said, holding the door open so I couldn't slam it in his face. His formality was painful. It made me feel guilty as if I'd made him feel like we weren't friends.

I'd thought a lot on what he'd said last night. I hadn't meant to make him feel like I didn't trust him enough to call him for help. I _knew_ that he could've come and saved me, but I didn't want to start anything. He'd seemed mad at me yesterday. This morning, he'd put himself back together, but I didn't trust that he wasn't still feeling betrayed.

I opened the door for him. "Do you want anything to drink?" I said politely as I tossed my book bag to the side.

"No…I'm fine," he said quietly.

I locked the door behind him since my parents wouldn't get home until dinnertime. He took a seat on our old couch and glanced over at me. I just stood there awkwardly and waited for him to get to the point.

"Dude, what's bothering you?" he asked, voice filled with concern.

I didn't know how to answer that question. A lot had happened in so little time. I'd just gotten back from almost being murdered by my own parents, my girlfriend had broken up with me, I'd left my best friend feeling betrayed and unneeded, but mostly, I was still bothered by Wendy. I'd spoken with her earlier today. She still hadn't gotten together with anyone, which _shouldn't_ be shocking considering it had only been about six days. But, with _her_…that's a pretty good amount of time…

"Wendy says she'll get back together with me if I kiss her…" I muttered nervously.

He stared at me impatiently. "Seriously?" he sighed. "_That's __**it**_? Just kiss her," he replied obviously.

"I-I can't…" I admitted finally. I stared at his perfect face, trying to _will_ him to understand my dilemma. He didn't understand how awkward this was for me.

"Why not? You still like her don't you?"

"God damn it…" I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. I needed him to understand that I _couldn't_ kiss. I was ill-experienced. I didn't want to try and kiss Wendy and completely screw it up. She'd be deciding whether or not I was worthy through the kiss. "Kyle, _I've_ never kissed anyone. I always get nervous and throw up."

"Yeah, I know," he said calmly.

"So you get my problem? You understand why I'm so afraid I'll screw it up?"

"'Course. What I don't understand is why you can't just do it? There's nothing to be afraid of. She promised she'd love you even if you were a bad kisser? Why are you so nervous when Wendy is one of the most understanding girls in the school?"

"I can't disappoint her…" I mumbled honestly.

"How do you know you're bad? It comes by instinct," he said calmly.

"Well, was I bad when you kissed me last week?" I said, struggling to match his calm prose.

"How am I supposed to know? I kissed you for a millisecond and you punched me in the face…" he snapped, agitated. He still had the outline of the bruise from it…

"Um…yeah… Right..." I said awkwardly rubbing my neck. "But, what can I do? I just want to be _good_…"

"Then, practice," he said as if I should be answering this myself. He didn't have to be a smartass about it…

"What do you mean practice? Like on my hands?" I asked.

"No retard, like on a person," he snapped.

"But, I wanted Wendy to be the first person _I_ kiss…"

"Why?" he said, appalled. "You won't be hers…"

I cringed. I'd hoped he wouldn't point that out because that was my logic exactly. If _she_ couldn't just wait for me, than why should I save myself and let her be _my_ first.

Because I _wanted_ to…

But, I also wanted to get back at her…

"Kyle, teach me what you know," I said confidently.

"What," he snapped, turning to me and staring appalled. "I didn't mean _me_! I just kissed you that one time because you were being a pussy! I wasn't saying I would teach you! That's totally gay!"

I cringed, wishing I could retract everything. This would ruin our friendship if he was as against it as he was acting right now. I didn't mean to make it sound so "_gay_"… I just wanted _him_ to be the one to help me. He was the only one I was comfortable enough with. But, looking at what I was saying, how could I even _propose_ such a thing? I was so dumb…

I needed to compensate. "I thought you were just offering, so I was just asking. Rebecca says that you're the best kisser by far. I was thinking that if you were so good, you wouldn't mind helping your best friend. Plus, you already kissed me once, so I didn't think it would bother you…"

I really hated myself right now. I was forcing Kyle to do something he didn't feel comfortable with by pulling the "I thought you were offering" card, the "Rebecca says" card, the "if you're so good" card, the "best friend" card, and the "you already did it once" card all at the same time. It just wasn't right. It didn't _feel_ right…

"…Alright…I'll help you…" he said after a moment of consideration, "but, not because of what Rebecca says and definitely not because I'm good at it. I'll help you because you're my best friend and you know I'd do anything for you."

"Thanks man…I don't know how I'm going to repay you."

"Don't," he said, turning his eyes down to stare at the floor. "I was a bit of an asshole a minute ago. I should've just agreed. I…_want_ to help you. I _did_ sort of expect you to come to me for help, and I didn't mean to call you gay." He paused nervously. "If you're going to go to _anyone _for help, I'd rather it be me." He was blushing slightly and looking down at his hands. I have to admit, it was cute…

I smiled, "Thanks. And, I don't really care that you called me gay. It's not an insult, just an adjective." I said, shrugging. "Though, I'm not…because I love Wendy…which is the reason for all this," I said feeling more and more awkward with every passing moment. Why couldn't I make that sound convincing?

...

So, we sat on that couch in my living room and stared at each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. Kyle cleared his throat. He seemed to be losing the confidence he came in with. "Well, um…I haven't actually kissed anyone since I was nine, except that peck I gave you, so I might be rusty…"

"You're better off than I am…" I assured him.

"I'm just saying…maybe you might want to find a different teacher…?" he said hopefully. He was making me feel _really_ bad about this whole thing; acting like he didn't _want_ to do this.

"We…we don't have to do this if you don't want," I reassured him. I didn't tell him that if it wasn't with him, I wasn't going to practice, and if I didn't practice, than I just wouldn't bother with Wendy. "I was just saying that…well…um…I was just saying."

"No," he put his hand on my shoulder. "It's fine…it doesn't bother me. But, I haven't kissed anyone in so long and…" his cheeks were turning red again, and he either didn't notice or was ignoring it. "I…I'm afraid that I'll make…" his voice faded off again like he was deciding against finishing that sentence.

I stared at him concerned. "Kyle, I'm sure you're fine. I don't think you'll screw this up. I mean, no matter what you do, you'll still be better than me right?" I reasoned, rubbing his shoulders reassuringly.

"Alright…let's just do this…" he said, balling up his fists nervously.

"R-right…" I said, confidence fading. I was becoming nervous again, but at least I felt better with all _that_ off my chest. He seemed just as nervous as me. For some reason, he just seemed terrified of the _prospect_ of kissing.

I didn't blame him though. We were best **_friends_**. And we'd always be **_friends_**; that's what we'd promised to be: _**friends**,_ and this wasn't **_friend_** behavior.

"Okay, all you've got to do is lean forward and just connect our lips. It's supposed to come naturally, so just don't think too much…" he said, biting his lip nervously.

God…he was so fucking_ cute_. Did I really just think that? Shit…

"R-right…" I was _really_ hoping that he would just kiss _me_ again and teach me through observation. I wasn't afraid of him kissing me, I was sure he'd be great; he was always so gentle to me and any kind of touch from him made my entire body tingle...unfortunately. But I was fucking _terrified_ of kissing him… What if I screwed up? What if he pulled away before I did?

I looked over at him to see he was sitting with his eyes closed expectantly. His face was still bruised up pretty badly. His lips were slightly parted and his hands kept folding and unfolding in his lap. I licked my lips, rubbing them together and trying to make them presentable. Damn this was hard…

Well, all I can say is that I did it. It was harsh, crude, I completely missed, and he pushed me off almost immediately. But, I did it.

"What the hell was _that_?" Kyle demanded understandably. "Were you even _trying_?"

"I-I of course…I _told_ you I'd never done that before, you can't expect me to be perfect!" I whined.

He unconsciously puffed his cheeks out in frustration. My _God_ that was so fucking _cute_. I would ravage him right now if I knew how to do it…wait…what?

"Well, obviously you're incapable, so just…let me do it," he said, interrupting my thoughts, scooting even closer until our legs were touching. His eyes focused on my lips and slowly leant forward, tilting his head slightly. I closed my eyes when it seemed like he wasn't going to miss…like I had.

The anticipation was killing me. It had been so rushed and harsh when he'd kissed me to prove a point last week. But, I was _extremely_ curious now. I just wanted to know what I'd been missing when I pushed him off. I knew it was wrong to think about kissing my male best friend, and it wasn't that I was afraid to be gay or afraid my feelings would ruin our friendship. I was just afraid it might ruin my chances with Wendy…

He paused for another second when our lips were just _barely_ brushing. _GOD! _I swear he was going to make me beg, wasn't he? I made an involuntary and _very _manly little whining noise in the back of my throat.

I felt his lips quirk up in a smirk. A fucking _**smirk**_! Asshole! My anger melted though, when his hand rubbed the back of my head and led me forward into him.

He gently pressed our lips together for a little less than a second and pulled away, letting our foreheads touch. "You tease…" I hissed.

He chuckled, and I could feel his cool minty breath. He'd always chewed gum before he got his braces…so it wasn't surprising that he'd gone back to the habit. But, the cold breath was still really attractive. He was close enough that I could hear his breathing so I struggled extra hard to keep mine quiet. "Calm down, Stanley. You won't learn if you don't do it yourself. Just relax and do what I just did…" he whispered.

Oh God…why did he have to use that name? His fingers brushed through my hair and he angled my head just right so our noses wouldn't bump. "Now…" he whispered, "…lean forward. You're all set up so don't miss."

I did as he said; leaning forward until my nose just barely touched his cheek. I kept my eyes closed, keeping faith that he had me positioned correctly. "Good," he whispered, "Now, kiss me." I felt his breath against my lips and judged where he was.

I pressed my lips against his successfully. We sat still for a moment, eyes closed, just sitting calmly and enjoying the small contact. He made the first move. He shifted his jaw so my lower lip slipped between both of his. He locked around it, applying the smallest amount of suction. I copied, locking myself on his top lip.

I wove my fingers into his soft, curly hair. I needed to breathe, so I took a muffled breath against his cheek, inhaling his scent. He smelled like Kyle, like his house, a little like his shampoo, a little like his mom's cooking, and a little like laundry detergent.

We were going _so_ slowly. I doubted this was the way Wendy wanted me to kiss _her_. This was too chaste. Plus, I wanted to go further. This small amount of contact was nice…_really_ nice, but I knew how close we were to so much more.

I couldn't take it anymore, his lips were so soft…they were dry, but not chapped. I could feel where his lips would part against my bottom lip and I really wanted to just tear them open.

But, before I could gain the nerve to do so, he pulled away, smiling proudly. "That wasn't bad, but Wendy isn't going to position the whole operation for you like that. You need to work on your aim," he advised. Was this seriously just teaching to him? Was it more to me? Oh Jesus…

"Alright…how's this?" I said, gathering all my courage and pecking him spot on the lips with perfect aim. I pulled back, grinning.

He looked shocked at first, but his expression loosened and he smiled, "Much better. You're learning fast."

"Alright, what's next?" I said eagerly.

"Frenching," he said calmly.

"Wh-what?" I stuttered. I wanted him to teach me this, but how was he so calm?

"Dude, _I'm_ not going to _teach_ it to you, but you need to learn it. Wendy kisses Token like that _all the time _when she goes out with him, so you'll probably need to know."

"You won't teach it to me?" I said, masking the disappointment perfectly and making it sound like relief.

"Aww, does little Stanie want teacher to work overtime?" he teased as if I _had_ said it with disappointment.

I guess if I didn't want this to end, I'd have to ask for it…he was _really_ making this difficult for me. "Kyle, I'm being serious. I don't know where else to turn. I can't just ask some girl because all the girls in the school are friends with Wendy, and they'd tell her. It would be _way_ too uncomfortable to do this with Kenny and I might get herpes from him. He's the only other guy that cares about me enough to be willing to do this. You're all I've got…"

"Are you seriously asking me to teach you how to French?" he said in understandable disbelief. Oh…_God_ this was going downhill. I choked on my own saliva which felt suddenly thick. Why did he have to be so straightforward?

"I thought that was implied…" I muttered, unable to just outright say _yes_.

"Well, alright…but remember it was _your_ idea," he said, shrugging.

_Wish I could forget,_ I thought to myself bitterly.

"Okay, I take it you know the mechanics?" he said. "You have to _ask_ for entrance before anyone will let you in. You do this by gently flicking your tongue across their lip, and then you have to wait for them to open. When they do, the game is on and it's free play." He said all this while talking with his hands which made it look pretty comic.

I laughed, "You make it sound like a game."

"It kinda is…"

"Alright…are you ready?" I said aloud. I cupped his cheek gently. He just nodded and closed his eyes slowly. I took a minute to secretly take in his features while he couldn't see me doing it. His hair looked so _fluffable_...I just wanted to play with it. My eyes roamed over his face. Jesus Christ…he was beaten up pretty badly…I felt bad…like it was all _my_ fault…

He cracked an eye open to check on me, and I just nodded to show I was getting to it. I wished he would initiate it, but I guess these _were __**my**_ lessons. I leaned in and connected our lips for the fourth time ever.

We stayed still for a few minutes and just felt each other's flesh touching. I held his jaw gently as I carefully flicked out my tongue and licked his upper lip, asking for entrance like he'd instructed. He took a deep, nervous breath next to my ear and he cracked his mouth open just a bit, meeting my tongue half-way.

He'd known it was coming, but he still seemed _really_ nervous and tense. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and felt his hands rest on my waist. Oh _God_, we were taking this slow… I pushed further, wrapping around his tongue and pushing deeper into his mouth. He tasted minty, but the further I delved, the more unique it was.

This was somehow thrilling and risqué. It was weird to say, but I _really_ liked his taste. It was becoming experimental and curiosity was peaking in both of us.

I wondered if I should still try to keep this as innocent as possible considering we were best friends, but it was sort of hard to do that at this point.

Soon, he was becoming more and more brash. His tongue battled with mine and he pushed past my defenses, tasting every part of my mouth he could. I pushed right back, licking his tongue head-on. Our mouths were smooshed so tightly together, our teeth were clashing. But, that only gave better access…

I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him closer. His arms gripped tightly to my hair as we ate each other's mouths out. We swapped sides once or twice by turning our heads the other direction, breaking apart for a quick breath before diving back in, careful not to clash noses. I had to remind myself that this was all for _learning_ purposes and not because it was making me hot.

Which it…totally wasn't because making out and getting boners with your best friend would be totally gay…

I was _itching_ to get more…somehow. He beat me to it when I felt his hands roughly squeeze my ass. I jumped a bit in shock, but welcomed the lewd motion while snickering into his mouth. I returned the favor, sliding my palms up his shirt to touch his bare chest.

The way we were positioned on the couch was a bit awkward. We had been sitting with one knee tucked under ourselves and the other leg hanging off the side so that we could face each other comfortably. But, we'd shifted so that he was practically on top of me and I was wrapping my legs around his back to pin him in closer. I slid my arms under his shirt across to his back instead so I could pull him even closer.

Our crotches accidentally rubbed just enough. He just moaned throatily and squeezed tighter on my ass. Okay, now I was _extremely_ curious. Cartman always said Jews had pitiful packages, but when could I ever trust _Cartman_? Still, I wanted to know…for educational purposes (of course).

My hand strayed between my best friend's legs where I gently palmed him, feeling his bulge. Wow…bigger than I expected!

His hips rocked into my hand, and he moaned while he deep-throated me with his tongue. I liked the vibrations… I took it as I go-ahead, and I unzipped his pants, all ready to give my best friend a hand-job. But, his eyes flashed open and he tore himself away. "Wh-what are you doing?" he said anxiously, panting to catch his breath.

"I thought you were cool with it?" I said, sitting up, breathing as arduously as he was.

He stumbled off the couch and zipped his pants back up, shaking. "I-I've got to go…I'll call you tomorrow…"

I heard the door slam behind him. Exactly _what_ had just happened?

* * *

><p><em>And it happens! Woah! That's a long chapter (over 4000 words…daymn!) …I think I make the action chapter shorter because things are always rushed when there's a lot going on, and romance chapters are longer because things slow down when you're paying attention to what you're doing. <em>

_So, was that leap in their relationship too rushed? I hope not…after all that work to make them go slow… Review plz XD_


	13. Dancing with the Stars is Hardcore

_Last Chapter was completely fluff, so I've already written this one. I'll just post it now instead of waiting for tomorrow._

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><p>MARSH<p>

"Kyle…wait?"

I was too late; he'd shoved his hat back on his head and was scrambling out the door. I got to my feet and ran after him. I glanced down at myself, finding a very noticeable erection. "Well…damn…" I needed to find Kyle.

I hastily pulled on my coat and gloves, shoving my hat onto my head and running out the door, not bothering to lock it behind me. There was still snow on the ground even though it was almost April. Luckily it was cold enough to calm me down. I followed his footprints, the only footprints leading away from my house.

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

I don't know why I ran. It wasn't supposed to bother me…right? But, I could tell, _something_ on my body was definitely bothered. I glanced down at myself, wondering how long it would take this little _problem_ to fade away.

I ran until I was out of sight of his house, hoping he wouldn't follow me. I needed to think. I _just_ needed to think it out…

I walked to where Stark's Pond once was before it had been dried up to build a Wall-Mart. I let my head fall onto the side of a small tree. What had just happened? Why did I feel so much more alone?

Stan wanted Wendy back so badly he was willing to put _me_ through all _that_? What was I supposed to feel now? That kiss had seemed so honest… But, it couldn't be, he was in love with Wendy. I had just been used as a tool to get her…again…

Why did he even _need_ my help? He'd thrown up in Wendy's face so many times I think she'd be glad if he just got within three inches of her without puking… There was _no_ way he could screw up.

He had just used me like a test dummy that moves, just to practice making out. It didn't even feel like he was inexperienced. He'd probably just wanted to practice on me…but if that was the case, then why me?

I bashed my head into the tree I was leaning on. Why would I bother to consider what I just thought? He wouldn't _want _to make out with me. Stan wasn't gay, and I wasn't _anything_…

…So then why was I letting myself get worked up over this? GOD I WAS BEING SO FUCKING STUPID OVER THIS!

It wasn't like it was the first time I'd ever gotten hard… I'd gotten hard watching some of Kenny's porns he'd let me borrow. It wasn't like this was anything alien to me.

It must be because it had been so long since I'd kissed anyone, and I'd _never_ kissed anyone like _that_…

But, why hadn't I? I was fifteen, right? It should have a girlfriend already. But, I hadn't gotten a girlfriend because of Rebecca…and I hadn't kissed anyone for fear of turning them into a whore like I did to her.

But…Stan was too pure to be turned to a whore. He was too faithful to Wendy to put her through what Rebecca put me through. So, it was alright…right?

Aahhgg! I was so confused! I beat my head into the tree again.

…:::…

MARSH

When I caught up, I found him beating his head against a pine tree near where Stark's Pond once was. He was talking to himself. "Idiot, you could've turned him into a whore like you did to Rebecca… It might be good that didn't happen, but instead, you took it too far, you grabbed his fucking ass! But oh Moses…it was such a fucking nice ass…"

My face felt heat up, standing behind Kyle and listening to him talk about me was weird. Maybe I should tell him I was here. Well…maybe it could wait until he _wasn't_ talking to himself about the firmness of my butt… I didn't want to embarrass him _that_ much.

He beat his head against the tree again, "I was so dumb… There's no way he's never kissed anyone. No one can kiss like _that_ on their first try. He was probably just being a jerk or he was horny or something. Face it Kyle, you opened up and you got used…"

"I'm _**not**_ using you!" I said firmly, unable to just stand quietly and listen to his self-bashing. "Why would I want to use you, where's the benefit?" I demanded. "I mean, sure you're extremely hot now, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to try to coerce you into something you're not interested in. You're my best friend, Kyle. I asked for your help because I trust you more than anyone and I wouldn't want to kiss anyone else…"

Oh _God_ damnit…did I just say all that out loud?

He stared at me. "We're not butt buddies," he said firmly.

"What?" I said, startled at the sudden defense. "Um…that's right I guess. We never fucked."

"Agh! But we came so close!" He tugged at his tight little curls. "Oh God…what have we _done_?" he groaned. "Did we just ruin our friendship forever? _Dude_ I don't think I can survive without you…please forgive me…I took it too far; I shouldn't've grabbed your ass, it was just an- impulse. I didn't mean to make- you feel like you had to touc-h me back… oh God…this -is my fa-ult." He was pacing back and forth and fidgeting nervously. His breathing was ragged and he was having trouble choking out words.

"Kyle…stop, you're acting like Tweek…" I chided. "You should know by now that we're always going to be best friends. After everything we've been through, how could we just stop?"

He turned and stared at me rigidly. "What we were doing in there was _not_ friend behavior," he said, deathly serious. "That is _not_ what _friends_ do. I don't _care_ how long we've known each other. I don't care if you call that 'teaching'. That was a make-out session followed by heavy groping! That is _not_ friend behavior! That's _lover_ behavior! We are _not_ lovers!"

"_Why_ _not_?" I thought brashly. "_Oh…shit, did I really just think that? Do I mean that?_" I shuddered, which he seemed to take it as a sign that I agreed with his disgust on the matter.

I knew he was open-minded, but I also knew that he was asexual and probably wasn't attracted to me like that. I didn't even know if _I_ was attracted to _him_ like that, or if I was just in shock still from the big change of it all.

"Kyle, we're teenage boys. I asked you to teach me how to kiss so that I could get my girlfriend back. Somewhere along the way, it became a bit too enjoyable and we got horny, but guess what Kyle? I get horny watching Dancing with the Stars sometimes, so don't take it too personally…" I said, trying to justify this whole thing.

He sighed in relief. "So you agree…it's just an overdose of teenage hormones…?" he said hopefully. "That makes this _much_ less awkward."

"That's the _perfect_ way to describe what I'm thinking right now," I lied.

He smiled and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and hugging me tightly with relief. "Alright, that's great!" he said. "So, do you think you can kiss Wendy now?" he said with hopeful eyes.

I cracked a (fake) smile. Truthfully, I had no idea. That was the intention behind asking for his help…but I think he might've just made it _harder_. "It can't be any harder than _that_, right?" I lied. "I mean kissing my best friend's gotta be the most awkward thing I've personally ever done…"

Lies…that was _totally __**too comfortable**_…

He laughed, lightheartedly. "And, _that's_ saying something, isn't it?" he snickered, knowing it really _should_ be the most awkward thing I've ever done.

I chuckled stiffly. He was doing it again, just moving on faster than I could keep up with. How could he just put all that into the past already? I would just have to try and do the same.

"So," I said, "you never _did_ tell me…did you win that debate with Cartman?"

"Oh yea! Thanks for reminding me," he said, shoving a hand in his pocket and retrieving thirty dollars. "Here's the money I owe you…and, here" he reached back in and took out another ten, "ten dollars interest…"

I laughed, "You've _got_ to stop showing off and paying with interest…you're in enough debt as it is…"

"Are you trying to make a crack about my credit?" he demanded.

"Dude, you're in more debt than the German government after World War I!" I laughed at my own joke.

He put his hands on his hips, glaring at me. "I can pay it off!"

"It'll take you your whole life without retirement…" I jabbed.

"Not if I invent something that makes five million dollars!" he said defensively.

I snorted, "And how do you intend to do that? It would have to be something that _everyone_ would use. It can't just be a passing fad; those go out of style to quickly to make any real profit."

He folded his arm over his chest and propped his other elbow on it so he could rest his chin in his palm. He did this often, but I suddenly thought it was really a cute motion. I restrained myself from slapping me in the face for thinking that right in front of him. His head suddenly bounced up and he raised his finger, "I've got it!"

I blinked. "Got what?"

He glared at me, "What I'll build, dipshit!"

"Well…what?"

"A nuclear power reactor that doesn't need water to circulate throughout it to keep it cooled. It will have an internal cooling system that will be self-sustaining so that if there's another disaster like in Japan, people won't have to worry about a nuclear explosion."

I stared at him. "That sounds difficult…"

"No…" he said, rubbing his chin in thought, "no…it's perfect. Think about it, Stan! When the earthquake and tsunami hit, people were searching for their loved ones and trying to get food and water and shelter. No one should have to worry about getting radiation poisoning on top of all that!"

"So? It _sounds_ great, but do you know how to build it?"

"I can think of something…then I can sell the rights to the machinery to countries all over the world! I'll be able to pay off all my debt and _then_ some!"

It still sounded like insanity to me, but he was so excited about the idea that I couldn't possibly tell him that it was impossible. It had been awhile since he'd gotten so worked up over doing humanitarian work. I liked this side of him…

He rubbed his chin in thought, "And…I'll probably have enough left over to cure Rebecca's AIDS…" he muttered. I got the feeling like I wasn't supposed to hear that, so I just ignored it.

His head snapped up and he looked at me. "We've got to get started on this!"

"We?" I demanded. "Dude, I've got like three projects to do tonight, I've gotta go! But, thanks for the help," I called after myself, waving to him.

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

I sat upside-down in my computer chair, spinning myself with my hands on the floor a few times to get the blood rushing to my brain. This wasn't just to fix my bad credit; this was to help Rebecca, and to prevent another nuclear threat.

I knew scientists would be working on this same problem, and to be honest with myself, I was no scientist. I reached up, hand groping up on my desk for my package of gum. I slipped out a piece, chewing it thoughtfully, upside-down still.

I flipped myself up in my chair furiously as a thought came into my head. The chair rolled and I fell out onto the floor. "Ah, fuck!" I cried, my head bumping into the side of the desk right where my bruise was.

I heard my mom shout something about language in the other room, but I ignored it. I crawled back into my chair and pulled my computer closer. I think I knew a way that I could do this…

I put in my headphones and played "After the Rain by Sebastien Schuller" to concentrate. This song was like being on fucking weed or something…just without the lapse of judgment skills…

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><p><em>Be very excited. Next chapter there's more action. I've really got a <em>_**lot**__ planned for this story. The first phase was the skinhead's kidknapping, I'll bring in the AIDS more next._

_Review plz?_


	14. The Tean Zu

_God…I feel like a creep. I'm just going through all the stories and comparing how many reviews they've gotten in comparison to how long the story's been out and how many chapters there are. _

_There's a direct correlation to the number of reviews and how many chapters there are. So, the more chapters put out more often…leads to more reviews…I'll put out a formula sometime over the weekend…_

_And, I forgot a__ disclaimer__ at the beginning: (didn't forget, they just piss me off… __**duh **__we __**know**__ the characters don't belong to you_)

_But, they don't. They're not mine. And, anyone I pick on in these stories…it's all in good humor. I'm not trying to offend. :)_

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

This was it! I had it!

My hand couldn't stop moving across the paper excitedly. I needed to run some tests with extracts of elements, but I think I could get a hold of what I needed from Mephisto… he wasn't a physicist, but he was probably the most qualified scientist in the town.

I reached into y backpack and found my cell phone. I scrolled down my contacts and texted Stan. "_Dude, I think I've figured it out…I just need some help from a scientist," _I wrote. I wanted to keep him informed.

He texted back pretty quickly. "_My dad's a scientist…"_

I actually laughed at the suggestion. "_Dude, your dad's a geologist… I don't know if it's the same thing. I just need samples of Uranium and Plutonium._"

I returned to my blueprints, sketching and biting my lip. I needed to stop that…it was a bad habit…

The phone next to my leg lit up and Stan's number showed under the little picture of a mailbox receiving a flying letter. I picked up the phone. "_Yeah…he could get you that. I just checked…_"

I stared at my phone. _"Srsly?_" I typed eagerly.

"_Yeah, sure…"_

_"Thx, dude!"_ I sunk back into my chair, exhausted. Stan was a fucking life-saver.

"_No prob. Is that all you've been doing all night? We've got that history presentation tomorrow, remember? Are you done?"_

_"Duh, I did that last week. It's gonna be epic._"

"_Ah, fuck you man… I completely forgot. I'm going to be up all night…"_

I laughed. "_What was yours about? Medieval torture, rght"_

"_Yeah. I still have to put together a speech…I'm so fucking tired…"_

I glanced at the clock. It was almost ten. I was supposed to be grounded for starting a racial war. But, right now, Stan was going to need help. I stood up and tucked my pillows under the bed sheets to look somewhat like there was a person under there. I put a basketball to be my head and put my hat on top, pulling the covers up over it.

I glanced over at my desk, thinking. I stuffed the blueprints to my reactor in my coat pocket. I couldn't just leave that sort of thing sitting around…

I shut off the lights, closing the door to my bedroom and climbing out the window. I shut it behind myself and climbed down the gutter. It wasn't the first time I'd snuck out. It just got easier and easier with time. I swung my body weight to the side at the last foot of metal piping and let go. My feet hit the ground gracefully.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets as I walked over to Stan's. I was there after about ten minutes. I didn't bother trying to sneak into his room again. There was no need considering I'd saved his life. When Randy opened the door, half-awake. He just let me inside.

It wouldn't have even come up if Mrs. Sharon hadn't walked in from the kitchen and demanded to know why I wasn't at home if I was grounded.

"I saved your son's life. I saved _you_ from having to kill him. I think we can let it slide…please?" I said.

"Alright, I won't call your mother…_this time_," she said sternly.

I just thanked her and ran upstairs.

Stan's door was closed, but I just let myself I like I always did. Stan was passed out over his laptop, the screen made his calm face glow ethereally so he looked like a ghost. His mouth was hanging open slightly…

I flicked the bedroom lights on and his head snapped up.

He looked around the room in confusion for a minute, but his eyes settled on me and he smiled calmly. "Kyle? What're you doing here?"

"Keeping you awake…apparently," I replied. "You've got to finish that speech…"

He smiled warmly. "You seriously snuck out of your house at eleven o'clock to help me with _homework_?"

I shrugged. "What else was I supposed to do…_sleep_?" I laughed.

He just rolled his eyes, still smiling. He spun his chair around to see how much he'd written. "I've only got two minutes done…" he muttered.

"Well, it's only a three-minute speech, so you're almost there…" I said encouragingly.

He nodded and scrolled down on his document. "Do you wanna hear it?"

"Sure."

He put his laptop on his legs and spun around to face me. He began reciting what he'd written, and I listened for as long as I could. But eventually, I just zoned off, listening to the deep drone of his voice and watching his lips moving with his words.

"So…? Good so far, right?" he said, looking at me expectantly.

My brain snapped back to reality. "Yeah…sounds good. What were you planning on putting next?"

He shrugged. "I was going to move on to the Chinese next. I already covered a lot of European torture…"

"Cool," I said, smoothing out his comforter and sitting on his bed. "You should include the Tean Zu. That thing that crushed people's fingers…" I suggested.

He stared at me for a minute. "Why do you know this stuff, Kyle?" he said quirking a dark eyebrow in suspicion.

I shrugged. "I listen in class…"

"We aren't learning about Chinese torture…"

"Well, _yeah_, but Mr. Garrison always mumbles about different tortures he'd like to use on us, I learn a lot from that alone."

He spun around in his chair and looked at me, we busted out laughing. We worked for an hour before he was struggling to keep his eyes open again.

"Do you want me to make us some coffee?" I suggested. I'd never _really_ liked the taste of coffee very much, but I liked the way it made your stomach feel warm and it woke you up pretty quickly. He'd started drinking it when we got to high school and had to start pulling all-nighters.

He pushed himself back in the chair and turned to look at me. He sighed, "I think my dad has some already made. I'll just text him to bring some up." He picked his phone up and opened it, sending a text to his father.

I leaned back, lying out on his bed. I didn't question why his parents were still up at this hour. They probably had work or somthing. "Cool…" I muttered, rolling over onto my stomach and setting my chin on my folded hands. His sheets smelled like his house. It was a clean, nostalgic smell…

I looked up at him. He had bags under his sweet blue eyes. I guess we were both pretty exhausted. But, this was an _exhausting_ town…

"Hey…Kyle?" he said curiously. I just smiled to show I was listening. "Why do you want to stay single?" he said cautiously. He knew this was a delicate question for me. I grew tired of answering it.

"You already know that, Stan," I said, turning my head and relaxing into his mattress.

"I know you think it's superficial…but, why? What if the couple really loves each other?" he said. There was a strange hopeful tone in his voice. What could he hope for out of love?

"Sorry to sound depressing or pessimistic or something," I began sarcastically, "But, I don't think people our age can really _understand_ what's going on in their heads. Right now, we're just experimenting with life. Nothing is really serious in high school except grades and health. And, that lack of seriousness is why I don't date. When people date, they're just experimenting. I'm sorry if I don't want to be a test subject…"

He frowned, staring down at the floor. "So…what? Do you expect your soul mate to just fall down at you out of the sky?" he demanded.

"Well…knowing this town…" I muttered too low for him to hear.

"Are you trying to say that since we're young, we don't know what we want?" he demanded hotly. His face was flushed and he seemed _angry_.

I was taken aback. Why was he being so passionate about this? Usually he would just let me be and respect my opinions. Maybe I'd insulted his relationship with Wendy or something, that's usually what it was about when he got like this.

"Look, dude, I'm not trying to say that you're naive. I'm just saying that you can't know what's going on in other people's heads. And, sometimes, you can't even trust your own impressions. You might love a person for months and months, then decide that there's something about them you just can't stand anymore."

He was staring at me, frowning. I tried to ignore his gaze and just gather my thoughts. Usually it was so easy to put them into intelligent-sounding sentences. Why did I feel like I was stumbling over myself today?

"What I'm saying is that people are fickle. I want love to be something sacred to me. I want it to be special. If I date just anyone, I feel like I'd be cheating them. I want there to be a mutual feeling between both of us. Call me an idealist, but I want to take my time with people and get a good feel of who they are and if I can trust them. I don't want to fall too hard for someone just to have them change their mind and break me," I concluded.

I hated pouring out my heart like this, but it was just Stan.

"Is this because of the way I react when Wendy breaks up with me?" he said, anger slowly being replaced by concern. "Because, I can pull myself together if that's why you're afraid to get out there…"

Is that what he thought this was about? Why couldn't i just form the words to convince him that there wasn't a deep reason? I didn't want him to stop coming to me for comfort… I felt most important when he needed me to pick up the pieces…

"I'm not afraid to get out there, I just don't _want_ to, okay! And, that's not the reason _at __**all**_!"

There was a knock at his door suddenly. We both jumped. Our conversation had been so engrossing; I'd almost forgotten that we weren't alone in the world.

Stan stood, pushing his chair away behind him. He opened the door. His dad was standing there, looking in the room suspiciously. "What're you boys doing?" he said, trying to sound calm.

"Studying, dad," Stan muttered, putting both cups in one hand and closing his door. His dad followed the door until it shut, keeping an eye on me until it closed completely.

"You're dad's cool…" I said sarcastically.

"He's just paranoid since I got back," Stan excused him calmly. He held out a mug of coffee to me. I sat up and took it, sipping on it gingerly. It was hot. "Are you staying over tonight?"

"Can't. I'm supposed to be grounded. I've gotta be there when my mom checks on me in the morning. So…let's finish this," I said, scooting to the edge of the bed and looking at the laptop intently.

We worked for another hour until we'd finished. We always moved slowly when working together. We sometimes disagreed on what to write or got distracted and completely off-task. But, I'd found that, working together, the final product was usually better.

His head fell onto his desk when we'd finished. "Just let me die…." he said, exhausted.

I laughed and lifted him from under his arms. He groaned, but he allowed me to move him to his bed and remove his shoes. "There. Just sleep. Tomorrow, you've gotta kiss Wendy," I said, flicking off his light. "Or I will be _seriously_ pissed."

He groaned and pulled the blankets over himself, not bothering to get into pajamas.

I closed his door and left. I walked back outside into the snow and back to my house. It was extremely dark at one in the morning. There weren't street lights in our neighborhood. The only light was coming from the town about a mile away and reflecting off the mountains so it lit up the clouds overhead.

It was peaceful outside. I wish sometimes that this town would embrace the night life. Colorado nights were plesant. It was a brisk sort of cold, and the sun didn't glare into your eyes.

I climbed back up into my window, careful not to leave footprints in the yard, knowing it would give me away. I swept them up with my jacket behind myself. I was as silent as possible, knowing my parents were sometimes awake at this hour…doing things I didn't want to think about.

I opened my window and pulled myself into my dark bedroom, throwing one leg over the windowsill, then the other. I walked over to my dresser to put on my pajamas. I opened a drawer-

There was a sudden and very sharp pain in the side of my neck and I fell to my knees. The room was spinning… My hand felt thick…maybe it was melting…but, somehow I got it to my neck and felt my skin. It was hot and wet…

A dart? I slumped over onto the floor.

* * *

><p><em>I think Kyle is much more aware of his feelings than Stan is, once he feels them. But, I'm not sure how he'd react to finding he likes his best friend. Since I'm probably most like Kyle out of all the characters, I've been basing him off myself. <em>

_I think if he liked Stan, he would probably deny it to himself first, and probably not believe it, but once he comes to terms with it, I don't think it would change him. I don't think he'd run, crying to Stan about how he's in love with him and hopes they can still be friends or some gay shit like that, I think he would just be normal and try observing Stan's actions more. _

_There, I ranted. I'm sorry._

_Next chapter will obviously start a new adventure _

_I eat reviews! Feed me plz!_


	15. Freaky Thursday FTW!

_Short chapter ahead. Shortest so far. I've been pretty busy the last few days. Sorry I didn't update yesterday, I stayed up all night to finish this short/crappy/ chapter. Yeah._

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

When had my best friend become so philosophical? I wondered this as I lay in my school clothes and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe he was just more mature now and understood something I didn't. What am I missing here?

I tried to put myself in his place. What if Wendy had become a whore after our little outing at stark's pond when we were eight? I think _I'd_ be afraid to even be in the _presence_ of females. But, he said he wasn't afraid…and I believe him.

I highly doubt that Rebecca really _broke his heart_ back then since he didn't _really_ love her. Kyle knows better than to believe in love at first sight.

I just shook my head. I guess Kyle really didn't need a _reason_ **not** to date. I guess you need more of a reason _to_ date, right? Maybe he just didn't have one. Maybe he just knew better.

Why do people have to mature?

I fell asleep wondering this.

…:::…

The next morning, my mom put my poptart in the toaster (a special treat compared to her regular cooking). I could tell they were still trying to make up for almost killing me. I was completely over it to tell the truth. It wasn't like it was the _first_ time they'd put me in life-threatening situations.

I put on a striped button-up shirt and pulled my brown coat over it. It was almost into the fifties outside now, so I didn't need my hat today. I wondered if Kyle was going to wear his…

I closed the door behind myself as I left the house. I quietly searched my front yard. Usually, Kyle waits for me near the mailbox, but today, no one was there. So, I walked to the bus stop alone.

"Dude! Why didn't you wait for me?" I demanded as I came up to the school sign to see Kyle and Kenny already at the stop.

Kyle turned. "Why would I wait?"

I just stared at him. "Dude…you _always_ wait for me… I thought that was the routine."

He shrugged. "Whatever…"

"You're cool…" I grunted sarcastically.

The bus pulled in and I filed on first, walking down the center isle to the back seat where we always sat. I watched in shock as Kyle sat in the front, almost as far away from me as possible. What the _hell_?

Was he mad at me? I don't remember doing anything to make him angry…

He was like that the rest of the day too. He completely hazed me and was being a total man-whore at lunch. He had two girls sitting in his lap, perched like total sluts. What the _hell_?

Well…I guess all I could do was _try_ to ignore it. It wasn't worth talking to him since he just teased me once when I tried. He called me a "scrawny fag". That was so unlike him…

Maybe he was trying to drive me away so I'd focus on Wendy today. I sought her out at lunch, only to find she was eating by herself for a change; probably because all the girls were trying to touch Kyle.

I set my tray down next to her and grinned. She smiled back, moving her tray out of the way. We had a silent agreement that this was okay. All her friends had ditched her for my best friend, so we were in the same boat here.

I'd have to thank him later…

"So…" she said carefully. "Did…did you decide what you want to do?" she asked.

I smiled warmly. "I decided I wanted to do this…" I said, cupping her cheek and leaning forward. I paused just before our lips brushed. I wanted her to want it…

She tried moving onto me, but I pulled back out of her reach teasingly. I leaned forward and connected our lips myself. I felt her smile.

It was…okay. Her lips were soft, but they had some sort of sticky residue all over them that I didn't really like much. She licked my lip for entrance and I granted it calmly.

Her tongue invaded my mouth slowly, reaching out over my teeth. It was weird. She did it all so smoothly and it felt so right, but there wasn't the same _passion_ as there was when Kyle was teaching me.

I pushed back, tasting her and giving her mouth the same treatment I'd given Kyle's yesterday. She tasted like peanut-butter and jelly, probably because that's what she'd been eating. Her fingers dug into my hair, nails scratching a bit. I gently pulled her in closer so she wouldn't scratch my head.

We broke apart and she gazed at me, eyes half-lidded. "That's all I wanted…" she breathed. "And…you did it perfectly."

I grinned; restraining myself from saying I had practice…that would be _stupid_.

"So…are we a couple again?" she asked.

"You know that's all I ever want…" I replied, still holding her closely. She smiled brilliantly. Her eyes sparkled behind her mascara. I just hoped that this time it would last more than two months.

…:::…

TESTABURGER

Where did Stan learn to kiss like that? That was….wow…

I snaked my arm around his waist as we left the cafeteria. He got the memo and put his arm over my shoulder possessively. I beamed up at him, flipping my hair over my shoulder with my other arm.

I had waited for him, and he had finally pulled through. I'd even stayed single for a week. I hate being alone. When I walk down the hall, it feels like everyone is staring at me. When I've got someone with me, I can feel like I fit in and if someone stares, they'll be staring at _us_.

I felt comfortable now. Stan had kissed me, so he must like me. That was enough.

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

I woke up, feeling sore and hot. I sat up, but found it _extremely_ hard…

I finally got myself into a sitting position to find myself stuck that way. I couldn't lean forward any more than I already was. I looked around the room. Where the _hell_ was I? Was this…Cartman's house.

I struggled to stand up. I waddled over to the mirror and fell over, screaming. WHAT THE FUCK!

I heard quick footsteps rushing up the stairs. Leanne Cartman opened the door. "What! Poppikins? Are you okay?"

"Arg! I'm _not_ Cartman!" I shouted indignantly.

She smiled, "Of _course_ you're not…are you feeling alright poppikins?"

"No! I'm not feeling _fucking __**alright**_!" I shouted. "That fat bastard put me in this giant sack of lard! I can barely move! Why is it so fucking hot?"

"Eric!" she shouted. "Do _not_ use that language!"

How had this even happened? I still didn't want to believe this was possible, but there was no way I was dreaming. I could _**not**_ be _Cartman_… Fuck my life. I wasn't dreaming. My dreams are usually lucid and I can sort of tell I'm dreaming. This wasn't the same.

Let's think back. I remembered leaving Stan's house and crawling into my window. The last thing I could remember was that sharp pain from a dart in my neck. I couldn't remember _anything_ beyond that point. But, that dart was on Kyle's neck…now; I had Cartman's fat neck.

Fuck.

* * *

><p><em>Yeah…so I wanna see what people think is going to happen. Why do you think Cartman wanted to be in Kyle's body? Take a guess…<em>

_Review plz :D_


	16. A Suspicious Pussy

_I made a chart of the first 25__ stories that were rated M and for the Style pairing. I averaged how many reviews each got per day and per chapter. They were the more popular of this category, so these results do not fit for all stories…_

_I was too lazy to find how many days had passed for some of the older fics, so it's not perfectly accurate. But, if any of these authors would like to do the math for their own story and tell me, I'll make the changes. _

_So, as if nine thirty on June 4, 2011, on average for this catagory, one recieves 5.6 reviews per chapter and 0.571 reviews per day. So, I'm behind on the number of reviews per chapter, but __**way**_ ahead _as far as how many reviews I get every day. _

_You guys are awesome. Period._

_When i figure out how to put it up as a chart, i'll post that too._

_And now…time for the story_

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

There was _no_ fucking way I was going to school like this. "I'm sick Mrs.…I-I mean, mom…" I said. She still seemed pretty angry about my earlier language, but as far as I knew, Cartman's mom was extremely indulgent. There was no way she'd force me to go to school if I was polite in asking.

"Really?" she said, anger turning to extreme concern. She brushed the hair back from my- Cartman's forehead. "You don't have a fever."

"How can you tell by just feeling my forehead? I feel sick…mommy," I said, restraining myself from growling in anger. This was _fucked_ up.

"Alright, do you want me to make you some soup or something?" she offered.

"No…I'm not hungry."

"Wow…you _are_ sick, aren't you poopikins?" she chuckled sweetly.

She left, closing the door behind her. This was seriously…_fucked up_…

I didn't like being fat. I was so used to being…normal. I glanced down at myself. I couldn't see my feet… God…damn…this…

Cartman must have done this. I'd bet he was jealous. He'd be walking around in _my_ body all day. People were going to think that he was _me. _Oh, shit… That fucker. I'll kill him. I _will_ **kill him**_**…**_

…:::…

MARSH

What was up with Kyle? He didn't talk to me all day. He wasn't acting like himself. I caught up with him as we left the bus in the afternoon.

"Kyle! Hey!" I shouted to get his attention as he walked away. "Wait up!"

He stopped walking and turned around. "What?" he demanded. "I'm busy, can you make this quick?"

What the fuck? This _couldn't_ be Kyle. Kyle _always_ had time for me. I don't remember doing anything to have him haze me like this. And, he'd never been one to haze people. When he was mad, he made sure you _knew_ why he was angry.

"Um…I got back together with Wendy just like you encouraged," I said, hoping he'd just congratulate me and go back to normal.

I'd acted it out in my head countless times. I would run up to him and tell him the news and he'd hug me and tell me how awesome that was. But, with the way things were going today, I didn't expect so much.

Still I didn't expect him to respond with, "That's _great_, a bitch and a pussy getting it on… Why don't you two love-struck hippies just go have some hot lesbian sex already?"

I grabbed his shoulder, furious. "What the _fuck_?" I demanded. "You _don't_ call Wendy a bitch!" I growled. "What is your problem? You've been hazing me all day! Did _I do something_?"

Kyle just stared at me, realization coming over his dark features. "Oh, yeah…I'm supposed to be happy for you. Well, that's good for you, Stan. You got your ho back," he said, smiling like someone was stabbing him in the toe and telling him to do so. He patted me on the back. It wasn't his usual pat though, it wasn't gentle and friendly.

"Don't call Wendy a ho," I snapped, but he was already walking away. "What the hell is up with you?

"…Why?" I muttered to myself. Why was he acting like this? Why was he so angry at me? What had I done wrong? Was there _any_ way I could fix this? Had I just lost my best friend?

No…it _can't_ be that…can it? He's just…upset over something…

Right now, Kyle needs _my_ help…

* * *

><p><em>Shortest chapter ever. I wanted to make that chart, so this chapter is very small. Plus, there wasn't much to say. It's <em>hard _to write Kyle and Stan in an argument (even if Kyle is actually Cartman) _

_It's also my most vulgar chapter. I think i cussed more in this chapter than any other..._

_And, does anyone know how to format documents into chapter format? I don't get this website...help?_

_Review plz?_


	17. One Piece

_So, last chapter was so short it was painful to post it. But, it was almost midnight and I wanted to get it updated before the day changed. Believe it or not…I __**do**__ have a life _

_(sort of)._

_And, my sleeping habits are __**not**__ helping my narcolepsy. I can't remember the last time I got more than five hours of sleep…_

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

If Kyle was going to act weird and not tell me why, then I would just have to pry the reason out of him. He never let it go when I was feeling upset, so I wasn't going to give him the luxury of silence.

I stopped at my house to drop off my backpack and let Sparky out. His bladder was going bad and he always pissed himself when I walked into the house. I don't know if he just got overly excited to see me or…what. He was getting old…

I left for Kyle's house directly afterward. I didn't quite know what to expect. I didn't know quite what I should expect to expect. Kyle had never been angry at me like this before…

Why couldn't we just go back to the old days where things didn't have to make sense? Now that we were older, we had to try and understand the emotional fallout of the things we did and said. We had to judge how we felt about things. I just want to be a kid. Kids can be blind to the world and rely on the adults that care for them to understand for them.

"Ha…ha…ha…St-…ha…Sta…n…ha…Stan!" someone said, running up behind me.

Cartman was gripping onto my sleeve, panting for breath. I was about to turn and tell him to chill out when he just completely fainted from exhaustion and exertion at my feet. "What the fuck?" I cried. Why couldn't I just have an _hour_ to be normal?

I bent over and slapped the sides of his fat face, waiting for him to wake up. His cheek jiggled from the blow. I did **not** want to carry this sack of lard back to his house. Hm…slapping Cartman was sort of fun…

He had pink marks on his cheeks before he woke up again. But, I felt _much_ better about him abducting me three days ago. He grabbed my collar and pulled my face close to his.

"Ha…Stan… You have to help me!" he said desperately.

I eyed him suspiciously. "With what?" I said hesitantly.

"I'm going to kill Cartman…" he growled honestly. "I want you to help me."

"You're suicidal?" I said hopefully.

"No! I'm not fatass! It's _me_!"

"You're making _no_ sense. You're saying you're not Cartman, but you look like Cartman, then you're saying that you're Cartman? Make up your mind or fuck off!"

"Stan! It's _me_! …Kyle! You've gotta believe me…please, I'm begging you!" he cried, tugging at my sleeve again, almost ripping it.

"Fuck off Cartman," I said calmly. I was getting tired of this game. I needed to talk to Kyle. I needed to figure out why he was being such a jerk.

"Stan!" Cartman cried, grabbing my shoulder and turning me around. "In fifth grade, you got sick at my house, but we were going to the county fair the next day, so you tried to hide it from me. But, I heard you in the bathroom. I didn't tell anyone because I wanted to go to the fair.

"In sixth grade, I broke your playstation and we spent the rest of the night at the Laser Quest building in Springs, selling caricatures of people to get the money to buy a new one before your parents found out. We never told anyone.

"In seventh grade, we were watching Iron Man, I told you that I had a gay man-crush on Robert Downey Jr. You said 'that's okay, I'm the same way with Leonardo Di Caprio.'

"Then in eighth grade, we snuck out of our houses to go to the park and you ended up insulting someone…somehow, I don't remember, but he had a gun and tried to shoot you and I took a bullet in my leg for you. We went to Kenny's parents and they knew how to take it out.

"Last year, you got a video camera for Christmas. So, we tied crates of pepsi cans to skateboards and rode down the Johnson's hill on them. I filmed it when you crashed and the pepsi exploded into this huge fountain of soda.

"And, this year…I was trying to help you get back together with Wendy. And, I kissed you…in two different instances. The first time, you punched me…the second time, you _asked_ for it. And you kissed back.

"Would Kyle tell that to Cartman? Would Cartman want people to believe that Kyle was inside his body? Cartman swapped bodies with me and I don't know why!"

I stared at him, unable to speak this entire time. He spoke so quickly and passionately.

I didn't think _anyone_ knew that I'd gotten sick at Kyle's in fifth grade.

In sixth grade, we hadn't told anyone for fear of my parents hearing about it.

In seventh…_why_ would we tell anyone else that stuff?

In eighth, well…Kenny knew about that one, but not Cartman.

Freshman year, we were the only ones there at the time, so no one else would know about that unless Kyle told someone. I hadn't said anything.

And…there was no way Kyle would've told Cartman about our exchanges this year. I sure as _hell_ hadn't said anything…

"Ky….Kyle?" I said, believing it tentatively. I didn't want to trust this face, but if it was really Kyle behind it…what choice did I have? He seemed to be in a rush to get me to believe.

He jammed his fat head up and down in an angry nod. "That fat shit put me in his body! I don't know why the _hell_ he would want that! But, I'm going to _**fucking kill him**_. We always talked about it…so…wanna help?"

I just stared at him. "…too weird…." I muttered. "This is…fucked up, man…" Kyle had just become hot and now he was Cartman. Wait…did I just think Kyle was hot again… I mentally slapped myself.

"_You're_ telling _me_?" he snapped. "I weight two-hundred and forty pounds! I weighted it this morning!" He was _furious_. "I can't see my fucking feet!"

I reached out and touched his shoulders comfortingly. "It's alright…we'll just find where Cartman has your body and we'll tell him to put things back. If he could force the switch in the first place, than he should be able to put things back."

Kyle glared at me through Cartman's dark blue eyes. His fat cheeks puffed out indignantly. We began walking to the Brovflovski household, hoping Cartman had taken Kyle's body to his house.

He went silent and stoic like Kyle often did when he was angry. He wasn't going to be himself until this thing was fixed. He was too pissed to speak. His pudgy fists were balled up and his face was flushed (but that might've been from exhaustion…Kyle wasn't used to being obese).

"Um…" I said hesitantly. "What do you remember? Like…do you have any idea how this could've happened?"

"A dart," he said shortly. I waited expecting him to elaborate, but he didn't.

"A dart?" I questioned.

"I got back to my house last night, someone shot me with a dart, and I passed out. That's the last thing I remember."

I guess it made sense. Cartman probably hid and waited in Kyle's room for him to come back. The only thing that didn't make sense was _why_?

"So that's why Kyle was being a douche bag all day…" I muttered.

"I did _what_ now?" he demanded.

"You were being a dickhead. Well…I guess Cartman was…but it was in your body so it just threw me. I thought I'd made you mad somehow."

"Oh…shit," he said, stopping in his tracks suddenly. I stopped walking and turned around. "Cartman is going to present my history project tomorrow…shit."

"Cartman has control over your body and everything you own, and you're worried about him giving your _history report_ for you?" I demanded.

"I worked all _month_ on that project! I memorized my speech! He's going to make me fail history! It's worth a quarter of our grade!"

"Chill out, Kyle. There's much worse he can do…"

"How is that supposed to _chill me out_?" he demanded. He glared at me, but his face fell after a second. "Oh…fucking shit…Stan…"

"What?"

"I had my blueprints in my pocket. My blueprints for the nuclear reactor…they're in Cartman's hands!"

"Why was it in your pocket?" I cried. Knowing Kyle, the blueprints would work first try. Who _knew_ what Cartman would do with that sort of technology…this was bad.

"I didn't _intend_ to have the fatass steal my body!" he replied hotly.

"Well, we've gotta get it back!" I said, blushing when I realized that I was sounding possessive over Kyle's body… I broke out into a quick sprint toward Kyle's house. Kyle tried to follow in Cartman's body, but his face just turned red again and he had to stop.

I ran ahead and knocked on the Brovflovski's front door. Sheila answered, looking angry like she'd just finished yelling. Maybe that meant that Cartman was here. She turned to me.

"Hey…is Kyle home?" I asked politely.

"No, I was hoping you would know where he was."

"He's not here?"

"No…I don't know where he went, but he'll be in trouble if he doesn't get back before five…" she said, tapping her fingers impatiently on the door and staring past me into the street as if he'd walk up behind us. Cartman…or Kyle had walked up just in time to hear that he'd be in trouble.

He cursed under his breath. "Thank you Mrs. Brovflovski…" he muttered. "We'll find him…" he promised, but to me, it sounded more like a death threat…

We searched almost all night. He didn't speak the entire time. I didn't want to know what was going on in his head, and I was afraid to make him speak for fear he'd blow up in my face.

We tried the park, Cartman's house, Main Street, the old site of Stark's pond; we pretty much sifted through the whole town. My legs hurt, I was cold, I was bored, and Kyle was being tense. It was, all around, horrible.

"Dude…I'm going home," I said at about twelve-thirty. "It's late and we've got school in the morning. I'm sure he'll show up. He did yesterday…"

"You can go," he grunted shortly.

I stared at him. "Are you coming?"

"I said _you_ can go…" he muttered.

I stared at him. I really didn't trust him to be alone with Cartman as long as Cartman had his body. If he pissed Kyle off too much he might attack Cartman and seriously damage his own body. "I'm not going anywhere without you. And I am _not_ helping you kill Cartman because then you'd never get your body back."

"At this point, I don't really care. I just want him dead."

My stomach lurched. The way things were right now, they felt broken. My best friend was torn into two pieces in two different places. I loved Kyle, but I also liked his looks. In Cartman, he was still Kyle, but he looked like Cartman, felt like Cartman, and smelled like Cartman. I didn't like it. I guess I just wanted him put back together so i could love my best friend in one piece.

"We'll get your body back _then_ we can kill him," I promised.

He frowned at me, but he obviously agreed in hatred of Cartman's body. "Alright…so…are you going to help me hunt him down?"

"No, Kyle. He'll be at school tomorrow. We'll just scare the shit out of him and blackmail him to swap back."

He resigned. "Alright, I'll go home…for now. Mrs. Cartman's probably worried anyway. I sort of just ran out when I saw the bus pulled in."

* * *

><p><em>It's a lot easier to write from Kyle's pov, but Stan's mind pushes the fluff a bit more. And, if I put this part in Kyle's mind right now, it would mostly be him complaining about being fat. <em>

_I've been super busy over the weekend, so I haven't had much time to think up jokes. Sorry about the filler chapters. I'm trying to move the story… it's just really heavy _

_Review?_


	18. Fucking Friday

_Alright. I'm glad now that I got a day ahead last Thursday. I came home from school yesterday and just passed out. (Narcolepsy is a bitch) Except, I didn't wake up after fifteen minutes like I usually do. I was down for the night. It was __**bad**__. _

_So I woke up at like twelve-thirty and started writing this since I'm skipping school today. I was up until two in the morning, but I just __**couldn't**__ finish in time before falling asleep again. (Trust me it's hard to stay awake)_

_I'M SORRY!_

_So, here's this extra-long chapter filled with Stan being totally gay I worked on it all morning. XD Happy birthday!_

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

The next morning, I left for school early. But, by the time I got to the bus stop, Kyle was already there in Cartman's body. He was still pissed. I could sense the angry vibes radiating off him.

It was still so weird seeing Cartman and knowing it was Kyle. But, he'd thoroughly convinced me it was really him. There was no other explanation to why Kyle was being so weird yesterday.

I glanced at the bus stop. Kenny wasn't here today…

Cartman strode up in Kyle's body. Why did he have to look so good and be so evil inside? I want the real Kyle back…

Kyle didn't _act_ like he was half as hot as he was. This was really good; it left more for the imagination and kept him modest. Cartman on the other hand, was flaunting Kyle's looks more than…I could handle.

It was starting to warm up finally, so he wore a thin, long-sleeve shirt that showed off most of his shoulders. He'd put something in his hair to calm it down so it just sat in tight little ringlets instead of fluffed up. My eyes sunk down to watch his legs as he walked. Those were _the_ tightest pants I'd ever seen on a boy. I hope they didn't damage…anything.

I glanced over at the real Kyle, noting his rage. He was trembling. Oh…Jesus…

Cartman leaned Kyle's lean form against the school zone sign, crossing his legs casually. I _hated_ that smug expression he was wearing. If it wouldn't bruise Kyle's real face, I'd seriously punch the _shit_ out of this little fuck.

"Sup guys?" he said casually.

"_What's __**up**_?" Kyle snapped next to me. He tilted Cartman's fat head up and looked up at the sky above himself. "Hm…there are some clouds, but other than that there's just…the fact that you _fucking_ stole my body! You little shit!"

"Ah, let it go Jew. I figured you'd be mad, but let's not bitch about it?" Cartman said.

Kyle snapped. He jumped at his body, grabbing Cartman by the neck and beating his head against the street sign. I panicked and pushed Cartman over so Kyle's brain wouldn't suffer a concussion. Kyle's body fell over into the snow and the _real_ Kyle turned to me angrily.

"Why'd you do that?"

"You were going to give yourself a concussion!"

He dismissed it and bent over, pulling Cartman off the ground and pinning him to the sign by the collar of his shirt. "How do you change us back?" he demanded.

"Just give me _one_ more day!" Cartman pleaded.

"Fuck NO!"

"Well, I'm not changing back until tomorrow!"

"You fat shit! Give me my body back!" Kyle snapped.

Cartman laughed, "Well, it seems _you're_ the fat one now~!" he teased.

"…So he admits it," I mumbled.

Kyle looked about ready to lash out again, so I walked over and stood in between them. "Can we just make it through the school day? We can't fix this on our own, and he's not giving in about this. We'll just have to wait until _he_ wants to comply," I told Kyle. "Cartman, I _will_ watch you…closely." I promised darkly.

"I don't trust him," Kyle said, folding Cartmans chubby arms over his chest.

I turned and met his eyes he still wore the same expressions as Kyle, but that was only a _small_ comfort. "But you trust _me_, right?" I said calmly. "I'll make sure he doesn't do anything."

He ground his teeth together, but the bus pulled in before he could retort. He glared one last time at Cartman before turning and boarding the bus. It shook under his weight. I turned around and grabbed Cartman's collar. "I swear to _God_ if you screw up today…I will _force_ you back into your own body and I will _fucking_ knife you…over and over so you can feel your own organs spilling out, so choked with your own blood that you can't even cry." I took a minute to reconsider this threat. "…Though, killing you would be too merciful. I'd rather let you live through every minute as I tear you flesh and mutilate your body."

He trembled. I took his hand, running my fingers over what were supposed to be Kyle's smooth palms. "I would make you watch as I slowly crushed _all_ the little bones in your hand then removed your fingers…one…by…one," I said, tapping his fingertips with each word.

I dropped Kyle's hand and tucked a lock of curly hair behind his ear. "Then I think I would cut your ear off. Not Kyle's ear…no, like I said you'd be back in your fat suit. I'd do it like in pieces, like hundreds of little piercings. I'd go for the toes next. I'd peel off the nails then cut each one off. I would peel off your skin and listen to the screaming as I cut through to your bones and gently grind it into powder with a metal file."

I smiled sweetly, turning around and stepping up onto the bus since the driver was obviously growing impatient. The scare tactics seemed to have worked anyway. Cartman was shivering in Kyle's form, not from cold, and frozen into his spot at the bus stop.

I turned around and smiled at him reassuringly. "But, of course that's only an 'if' type of situation, naturally. I'm sure nobody would _ever_ try to hurt Kyle…right?"

He shuddered.

I climbed onto the bus and took my seat in the back with Kyle. I silently wondered when I'd become so protective of my best friend…

"Dude…what was that all about?" he demanded. "He looked like he was going to shit in my pants…"

I laughed. "Don't worry about it. He'll be responsible," I assured him. "But, dude…those are _your_ pants?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Kenny swindled me into buying them. My mom shrank them in the wash by accident. I never wore them again. They…hurt…"

I nodded understandingly. "Oh…dude!" I said excitedly. "I got Wendy back! Thanks for all your help…it was so easy…"

He grinned and held out his fist for me to hit. I pushed it aside and hugged him. It was a bit weird considering I was hugging Cartman, but it still felt like Kyle hugging back, so I excused it. It was actually pretty awesome that he could still give off the same old vibes even if he wasn't the Kyle I loved so much.

"I'm happy for you, dude," he said honestly. "Please try to make it last more than a month this time. I've got enough on my plate without you coming crying to me with a broken heart…"

I punched his arm lightly. "You know you love it. You like how I snuggle into you for comfort. You know we fit together perfectly."

"Dude, you're such a fag," he laughed. "Just help me focus on getting Cartman the fuck out of my body." He paused and giggled into his palm. I stared at him confused. "Sorry…I just thought about that…it sounds _really _wrong…" he laughed.

I laughed. "You're such a perv!"

He just shrugged in agreement. "So, how do you think he did it?" he wondered aloud.

"I hadn't really thought about it. I've just come to terms that there's some crazy shit that goes down in this town," I said, leaning back into the seat.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this…but first, why not have some fun, right? If he wants to fuck me over, then I'll ruin his life…" he said, his eyes glinting darkly.

…

I was anxious and on-edge all day. Kyle was threatening to do something rash and horrible so he could blame it on Cartman, and I was sure that Eric was just waiting for him to do it so he'd have an excuse to retaliate.

Somehow, I'd become the mediator of this whole ordeal and I did _not_ approve of this. But, things seemed to be fine. It was already lunch and Kyle hadn't broken character _once_.

I'll admit he's a pretty good actor. He even claimed to be 'big-boned' when Craig flipped him off and called him a 'fat lard'. It was great; he did the voice and everything and I busted up laughing.

We sat at our usual table. Kyle didn't seem to have an appetite in Cartman's body. He wouldn't touch his food.

"I can't see how Cartman can eat so much… He's got so much fat it's like his body can just feed off itself…" he muttered. "I haven't eaten anything since I got stuck in this fat suit."

I laughed even though he wasn't joking. But, my smile faded as I glanced behind him, across the cafeteria. Cartman was sitting in a booth with four girls. One of which was seated in his lap and making out furiously with Kyle's mouth. My stomach churned. I did _**not**_ like that…

Kyle glanced at me from across the table, finding my nauseous expression. "What…?" he turned around and saw Cartman. "Fuck!"

He began standing up, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him down. "Stay calm…"

"Is _that_ what he did yesterday?" he demanded.

Before I could answer, Clyde and Butters came up behind him. Clyde seemed confused and Butters was knocking his fists together nervously.

"Hiya, Stan," Butters said nervously. "I was justa wondering. Are you and Kyle fighting or somethin? He's acting awfully weird. He called me a 'buttlicker' earlier…that's not like him…I's just worried…"

"Well, Kyle is just-" I began, but I was interrupted by the sound of chairs being tipped over as Kyle suddenly tackled Butters and kissed him. All I saw was a flash of red as Cartman's fat body went down on him.

I rose to my feet and stared down at what was happening. What the fuck? Why was Kyle kissing _Butters_? And, he was getting _way_ too into it for my comfort…even if he was posing as Cartman. He began unzipping Butters' jacket and stripped it off him. He broke off his mouth and began trailing his tongue up his neck. Butters began crying. Cartman's fat pudgy hand went over his mouth, but people were already watching in horror. Cartman was crushing Butters for all they saw.

Clyde started screaming as Kyle began palming Butters with Cartman's fat paw. I wanted to scream too, but I couldn't get my mouth to move. What the _fuck_ was happening? Why was Kyle making out with Butters on the lunchroom floor…as Cartman? What?

Kyle's body rose on the other side of the cafeteria and Cartman dashed over to see what was happening. Kyle's face poked through the crowd of people. I watched as his eyes grew wide with shock. Cartman was watching himself molesting Butters. His face grew red and he shoved his way through the mass.

He ripped Kyle off of Butters and gave a quick threat before glancing at me. He shivered in fear and dropped his fat body back down to the floor. Kyle picked it back up and brushed himself off. He glanced around at the crowd of people watching the spectacle.

"Sorry…I couldn't help it anymore," he said, and he excused himself from the center of it all.

I stood, rooted to the spot and watched as Clyde helped pick Butters up off the floor. I tore my eyes away and strode quickly to the hallway where Kyle was staring into the window through Cartman's fat eyes. He was grinning widely, highly satisfied. "Dude!" I called angrily. "Why did you do that?" I demanded.

He turned and noticed me. "Hey, Stan. What's wrong?"

I glared at him. "You just molested Butters in front of half the school and you ask me what's _wrong_? DUDE! Poor Butters! Why him?"

He just put a hand on his chubby hip. "Stan, only Butters would be able to pull it off…"

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" I demanded.

"Butters is _the__** most**_innocent thing that's ever walked. Cartman's reputation will be permanently ruined, and Butters' rep can only benefit."

"You are twisted, dude…" I said angrily. "Just because you look like Cartman doesn't mean you should act like him!"

His smile fell immediately being compared to him. "No! Look!" he cried defensively. He pointed into the cafeteria window. I followed his finger and glanced through the glass. Butters was surrounded by a small mob of concerned girls fawning over him. He was crying and playing it up to its entirety.

I didn't know what to say to that. Apparently Kyle knew what he was doing. Like usual. I sighed, leaning my forehead against the windowpane. What was it I had just felt if not anger then?

"Dude…" I muttered. "Maybe you should've molested _me_…"

I watched his reflection shake its head in the glass. "No…you've got a girlfriend so you could only get sympathy from her. The other girls would just leave you out of courtesy to Wendy. It's part of being off the market. Besides, you're not on the same innocence level as Butters so it wouldn't hurt Cartman's rep."

Well…that settled it. Kyle _did_ plan that. But still…it didn't explain why it made me so angry still. I should be _happy_ that he was getting back at Cartman so easily…right? But, why did he have to _kiss_ someone to do it?

The rest of the day passed easily. Cartman was too scared of my threat to try anything, so he just walked around all day with this guilty expression on. Kyle was satisfied with making Cartman look completely gay for Butters. I was just trying to catch up on my school work and make sure that Cartman gave Kyle's speech right. Kyle had to sit as Cartman in algebra one while Cartman as Kyle and I were in history, so I had to make sure he didn't ruin Kyle's project.

I opened my locker to put away my text books before getting on the bus. A letter fluttered out onto the floor in front of me. I bent over and picked it up, recognizing the chicken scratch writing.

_"Stan,_

_You and Kyle come to my house after school. I'll put things back to normal…"_

I was guessing he meant to go to Cartman's house. I considered asking him in person, but when I went to talk to him he was talking on the phone and ignored me.

So I told Kyle as we boarded the bus that afternoon. He just stared out the window and nodded. I'd bet his mind was in a thousand different places right now, so I decided to leave him alone. I put in my headphones and listened to my ipod for the duration of the ride. Coheed and Cambria seemed good right now…

It seemed like the bus couldn't stop soon enough. I was eager to get this over with. I didn't know and didn't _care_ how Cartman had swapped bodies with Kyle, but I just wanted him back to normal. This entire day had been too stressful.

The three of us walked together to Cartman's house. We didn't speak. Kyle was still pissed off and I didn't have anything to say. We let ourselves inside and threw our school bags by the door.

Mrs. Cartman came out of the kitchen with a plate of waffles covered in chocolate. "Hi boys! Cartman's brought over some friends? I'm so glad you're playing nicely poopikins!" she said, patting Kyle's head lovingly.

I snickered, but both Cartman and Kyle turned and glared at me darkly. I shut up.

"You're friends are already downstairs. They got here a few minutes ago," she informed Kyle as if he knew what she was talking about because he looked like Cartman.

We turned and looked at the real Cartman. He just took a plate of waffles and turned down into the basement. I glanced at Kyle before following him down the stairs.

The basement was just like it always was. His mother still kept her blow-up sex toys down here even though Cartman probably knew what they were…by now…hopefully. He still had all his Coon equipment stored down here.

The only thing that was off was that there was an old couch in the corner where two very old dark-skinned people were sitting. I recognized them, though they'd aged quite a bit.

Chef's parents…

Beside them, there was a large mass hidden under a blanket on Cartman's conference table. Next to that, there was a bowl of orange jell-o. I didn't even want to _ask_ what was going on…

"Why are they here?" Kyle said calmly.

"I called them over from Scotland last week. They're going to put us back in our own bodies."

"I'm so confused right now…" I muttered.

"They helped me and I just had to pay them tree-fity. It was simple really. I only had to find a sacrifice. I just had to kill Kenny then got them to exorcize your soul from your body and put it into him. Then, I paid them to replace me into your body and put your soul from Kenny into my body. It was easy."

"Oh my God…you killed Kenny!" I cried. That was _all_ I'd caught from that explanation. It made no sense.

"Bastard!" Kyle cried.

"No! If I did it right, his soul will still be in this bowl of jell-o…" he said motioning to the table.

"Oh my _God_! Is that Kenny under there!" I cried.

"What the fuck?" Kyle deadpanned.

"I made sure that his soul was placed into something before I had myself exorcised into your body. That way we can use him as a host again to switch back. It's simple."

"Actually, that sounds _extremely _complicated…" I muttered. "Why would you go through all that?" I couldn't stop staring at the bowl of orange jell-o. This was fucked up…

"Because!" he cried. "No _Jew_ is going to lose their virginity before me!"

I didn't want to believe what I was hearing. Cartman had taken Kyle's body just so he could have sex in it! I was going to puke…

Kyle just stared at him. "You did _all of this_ just to get laid…" he confirmed in a monotone. He shrugged. "I guess it's reasonable…it would've never happened otherwise."

"Ey!"

"You're just going to let it go!" I cried. "The fucker stole your virginity and used it for himself!"

Kyle looked at me sympathetically. "It's fine. It's not like I could stay a virgin forever. And, I don't think I would've used it for anything. What's virginity besides a sentiment?"

"Dude!"

"Chill out. Kenny lost _his_ when he was _nine_," he reminded me calmly.

"So?" How could he be so unmoved over this? Why was I freaking out? "Kyle, virginity is supposed to be something sacred! You share it with someone you really care about!"

He frowned. He'd always shared that mentality with me, but there wasn't anything he could do about it anymore. "It's fine," he ground out. "Just let it go…"

I stared at him. Why did it feel like my blood was boiling in my veins? I wondered how red my face must be right now. I was _so __**fucking**_ pissed off. How could Cartman be so selfish and take advantage of Kyle like that? It _was_ Cartman, but this was low…even for him.

"I'm going to kill you…" I grunted.

They both turned to me. "What?" Kyle said and Cartman was just shaking.

"You swore that you would torture me if I screwed up _today_! I did it _yesterday_! You can't kill me!"

"I don't _**CARE**_" I shouted, lunging at him. I felt Cartman's fat arms wrap around my waist and hold me back. I kicked and thrashed. I couldn't think logically, I just wanted to murder him. "LET ME GO! I WANT TO KILL HIM!" I screamed hysterically.

"Calm down, Stan," Kyle muttered behind me.

I dropped into his arms limply. "Be mad…" I pleaded. "Yell at him or threaten him…please, be mad…"

His hand brushed through my hair soothingly. "I am, Stan. I am. …But, there's nothing I can do to change what he did. If we kill him we'll be arrested. We've just got to tolerate things sometimes. There's _nothing_ we can do. Even if we tried to get him punished for this, no one would believe us. Just be calm."

I sighed. He was right. I hated the relieved expression that came over Kyle's face. Cartman should fear for his life right now! But…who would believe that Carman had performed pagan magic to switch bodies with Kyle just to have sex? No one…

"Is everything alright down there poopikins?" Carman's mom yelled down from the basement door. She probably heard my screaming. She was a bit late to the punch...

"It's fine!" Kyle yelled as a reply.

"Just…switch back," I muttered.

"Oh…um, before we can," Cartman said, averting his eyes awkwardly. "We're gonna need tree-fity…"

* * *

><p><em>Try not to get confused with who's who. Just try to go off who would do what. I know it's confusing, but it was even harder to write.<em>

_I hope you like!_

_Review plz?_


	19. Words Words Words

_Okay, so I'm not sure if everyone got the joke of the last chapter's name. It's supposed to make fun of Rebecca Black's 'Friday Song', and it's a pun off 'Freaky Friday'. I'm sure you all got the joke…I was just proud of myself. (As per usual)_

_So, I've decided to reply to some reviews to celebrate a new episode tonight, to apologize for what's about to happen, and because you people r so awesome XD_

…

_**Wtery Rose Grave**__**:**__ I'm not so great at understanding Cartman. (He's not exactly my favorite if you haven't noticed) It's really hard for me to get him right, and I'm very conscious of that…all the time. I just figured that __**I'd**__ be scared shitless if I had a very protective Stan threatening me like that. (And I don't scare that easily). And I could just see Cartman spazzing out if he thought Kyle was going to lose it first._

…

_**Dawne**__**:**__ That's cool, f-bombs are fun, but I tend to say shit when I drop them…ironic? _

_I'll try Kyle's pov, but he's gonna be super pissed… And, yeah. It's true that Cartman's body is still a virgin, but why would he care? He still got the feeling and the experience, which is all they really care about (They're guys…come on!). Kyle on the other hand is still emotionally a virgin, so yes…Stan still has a chance. And, seriously? Your 'particularly perverted' is like breakfast conversation for me, you're totally pardoned. Also, I didn't skip school cause I was sick and narcolepsy doesn't make you feel ill, just sleepy. _

_But thx 4 ur concern XD I felt so speshul~_

_P.S. Why thank you, I __**am**__ and incredible person, how'd you know? Ahaha, no one can obsess like I can…_

…

_**RainbowSparklexx**__: I'm so sorry! It pained me to write it! _

_And yeah…I love Chef's parents. Chef's entire family was just amazing. It's so much like my family… And, dude…the jell-o has to be orange so that Cartman could remember not to eat it. Orange stands for Kenny. Hope I can keep up with your expectations. _

_Awesome name btw XD! _

…

_**Scarlet Wolf**__: I think you've commented on like…every chapter thus far. Dude, you're awesome! I like how you're really giving thought to the storyline and trying to predict what will happen next. It doesn't seem like much, but it shows me that you care enough to give a damn. Which is great! It's what I try for! _

_Oh, sick! I can't even imagine Kyle __**screwing**__ someone! He's too nice for that. Well, I guess it __**was**__ Cartman, but still it's like total brain fuck…just picturing it…_

_And, I'm not sure if you've seen the Coon and Friends episodes in season 14, but if you haven't, watch them asap. They're going to be important soon in the story. (I'm just saying this because you commented about Kyle not knowing Kenny dies all the time) They really __**don't**__ know he does because they always forget. Them remembering his deaths is just a convenience to fanfic writers who don't want the other characters to have to give him pity. (It's a shortcut)_

…

_**JKW351:**__ Thanks for the nickname! (not sure where it came from, but it's cool). I don't get nicknames often. Two or three of my friends call me 'Capitalist', but that's just cause they think I'm like America from Hetalia (don't know if you've heard of it)._

_I'm glad I could spark interest in Style for you. I hope I can keep it up. _

…

_So, there. Phew. I'm sorry if you've never reviewed and that was a total waste of your time, but if that's the case, then review and I'll say something to __**you**__ next time. And I'm sorry if you've reviewed but I didn't have a response. Your input is still extremely appreciated; I just didn't have anything to say. So, thanks to: Kairi Nanami, Sasukesgothgangstababy, m-adam ant, Esme Tyler, Surnoom, Karin Shinigami, TunaFish, Kooly, kyleisdabest, neo-chan, and finally, SomeoneCMary. _

_You're all awesome! I'd hug each of you if I knew you in person!_

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

I wasn't sure why it was bothering Stan so much. I knew we'd always joked about saving ourselves for each other, but I'd always thought it was just that…_joking_. The way he was acting now, it seemed like he'd been serious all along.

I couldn't think about that right now. Right now, I had to focus on getting my body back and putting everything right. That was my only concern.

I probably wasn't as angry as I _should_ be about this. I guess I was a bit thankful really. I knew Cartman wasn't going to let it go if I lost mine before him. He'd get all twisted up into knots about how a Jersey-Jew with red hair could possibly get laid first.

Also, I was unequivocally anxious to lose my virginity. I was eager to get the experience of it after viewing countless porns. But, I didn't want to deal with the emotional consequences of it. I didn't look to feel like I belonged to someone. I had never found a girl I wanted to feel that way about.

So, in a way, I was grateful that Cartman had gotten it out of the way for me. I knew I would have to eventually or people would start questioning me. With the way I had girls staring at me all the time since the 'make-over', it would be a crime if I hadn't tapped at least one. And, this way he would just let it all go and be satisfied. So…it was a win-win situation…right?

The switching back process was a blur. I was unconscious for most of it, but I remember tribal chants and shaking furniture. When I woke up, Stan was leaning over me wearing a concerned expression. The way he bit his lip was really cute…wait…

"Is that you?" he asked.

I grinned, sitting up and looking down at myself to see my own body back. I sighed with relief and he took that as a good sign and tackled me with a hug. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and he helped me stand up. We glanced around the room. Cartman was back in Cartman's body and Kenny was trying to punch him. Cartman kept a fat palm in his face and held him off laughing.

I gave Chef's parents their tree-fity and they left. Cartman had paid their tickets to and from Scotland. I still couldn't believe he'd gone through so much trouble. That was part of the reason I decided to forgive him. I still wish he would've asked my permission…

"So…" Stan said. "I guess it's time for the moment of truth?"

I glanced over at him, understanding what he was getting at. "Yeah…who did I fuck?" I wondered aloud.

"Ah, who was that nerdy girl you thought you were in love with?" Cartman said, rubbing his double-chin in thought.

"Ah…_hell_ no…" I muttered in disbelief. "Rebecca?"

"Hm…yeah, I think that was her. Dude, I'll tell you, she knew what she was doing. She moaned your name _so_ loud…"

"Of course she knew what she was doing, she's a whore!" I cried. "You gave me AIDS! Again!"

His grin faded. "Hey, I-"

"No! You're going to _fix_ this!" I shouted. This explained why he hadn't gotten even at me for molesting Butters as him. He knew he already fucked up royally.

"I don't have a hundred-thousand dollars!" he snapped.

That tore it. I balled my fists, turning around and walking to the stairs. I didn't care if he didn't have the money. He was going to make it. I walked through the kitchen, past his mother and out into his garage.

I opened the hood of his truck. He'd been _so_ excited to finally have a car and he got one before any of the rest of us. He didn't even have his license yet. Stan was the only one who had taken driver's ed. I had opted out of my course because my parents didn't want me to be driving yet, and Kenny's parents couldn't afford the insurance so they kept him out of the course. Cartman had no idea how to drive his own truck, but he still insisted on flaunting it in our faces.

Well, he could just fuck himself if he wanted it so bad. I'd bet he had a vag just like his mom had a penis. It seriously wouldn't surprise me.

I hotwired his car as Stan, Cartman, and Kenny opened the garage door. "What're you doing Jew?" Carman cried.

"Selling your truck. I'll have a key made for it. This should pay off maybe twenty-one hundred. You've just got $97,900 left to pay," I ground out, subtracting the depreciation value on his car and taking that from his grand total.

"Ey! Jew! That's stealing!"

"Then sell it on your own!"

He balled his fists up. He absolutely _hated_ not being in control of a situation. But, if he didn't make up the money, I would wreck his truck and ruin his reputation until he was living in hell.

"Sell it…" I growled, "Sell it or I'll wreck it!"

"Fine! Fucking Jew!"

I sent him one last glare. He wouldn't back down on this. I would destroy him. He understood my anger. He usually could when he screwed things up this badly. He understood that he was waltzing on a fine wire…

I stormed out of the garage and into the street. I needed to get to a doctor and get myself tested for STDs…wow; I'd never thought I'd have to admit that.

"Kyle, wait!" Stan's voice cried behind me. I turned, forgetting to take off my glare. He froze, thinking I was pissed at _him_. "Dude…are you going to Hell's Pass?"

"Duh. I've gotta get myself treated! I probably got syphilis or something."

He frowned and took my hand. "Let's go…" He began walking, but I just stared at him. He turned and looked at me, down at our interlocked hands, then back into my eyes. "What? Do you not like this?" he said carefully.

"No, I don't care, but…Stan, do you _really_ want to come with me so I can get tested for STDs?"

He just laughed and started walking. I followed him. "I'm here for you," he assured me. "Even if you've got herpes."

"Dude…does _anyone_ even _know_ what Rebecca has?" I wondered aloud.

"I dunno," he said, laughing despite himself. "Let's hope it's treatable…"

I couldn't bring myself to match his lighthearted air. I knew he was putting it on for me, trying to cheer me up. But, I was still pissed off and extremely upset.

I knew that Cartman could do some amazing things when he put his mind in the right place. Unfortunately, his mind was almost _never_ in the right place. So, he usually ended up causing more trouble than he was worth. I just wanted to put him out of everyone's misery.

But after I got rid of whatever STDs I had, I needed to build my nuclear reactor and get myself out of debt. Cartman will raise the money to cure _my_ AIDS and I'd save Rebecca. It would all work out eventually; if we did this right.

"Stan?" I said. I wanted some answers. He looked at me, but continued walking, swinging our hands slightly. "Why did you get so upset when he said he'd used my virginity?"

His face flushed a bit, and I noticed it. I didn't point it out. "Well…I-um…" he stuttered. He turned and pulled himself together, stopping me in the street. I faced him. He was staring straight into my eyes. "You belong to me…" he said firmly.

We stared at each other for a few minutes, silently. I couldn't take it anymore. His expression was so serious; I cracked up laughing. He smiled sadly for a minute before laughing himself.

He laced his fingers through mine and we continued walking. I think we were the only men on earth who could walk down the street with our hands laced together like this and _not_ feel gay at all.

In fact, it was extremely comforting. I knew Stan was always going to be right here. A future without him was just incomprehensible. I knew that even when we left for college, we'd still keep in touch and we'd find our way back to each other afterwards. I don't think I'd survive without him.

Even now, with all this shit going on in our lives, we were still a team. We'd make it through this. I'd get myself out of debt and get rid of mine and Rebecca's AIDS. I would have to confront her again. I wanted to know why she'd agree to have sex with me despite knowing she'd infect me.

I turned to Stan. His happy aura was fading again. "So, I guess this means we can't make-out anymore…" I teased. "At least not until we get rid of my AIDS…"

He tensed, but laughed.

God…he was acting so weird about that still. It had just been a demonstration…right? Why couldn't he let it go?

He scratched the back of his head, pulling his hat up a bit. I reached over and grabbed the puff ball on the top and tugged it off. His eyes grew wide and he grabbed for it, his hair sticking up at weird angles. I held it up out of his reach and took off my hat, replacing it with his. I plopped mine down on his head. He just laughed and left it alone.

My hat had felt extra-roomy since I'd cut away my fro. I wasn't sure if I liked the extra space or not. I glanced over at him to see him playing with the ear flaps on my hat. He tried to look up above his eyebrows at the green fur, wriggling his fingers in the softness. He wrinkled his nose. I just watched him. He smiled happily, saying something about my hat, but my blood was ringing in my ears and I ignored his voice. I was too distracted…

His lips thinned around his straight white teeth when he smiled. His eyes met mine and he smiled wider. His grin was just a little lopsided and it was cute… He had a tight jaw and his chin tapered, but his face wasn't long or round, it was just right. I was surprised he wasn't more aware of it but...he was…hot. Why had Wendy even broken up with him in the first place? I shall never comprehend the female brain…

I gripped his hand tighter, turning away. I'd have plenty of time to stare at him if that's what I wanted. We had a whole album my mother had devoted to us during her 'scrapbooking phase'. Sometimes I had to thank her occasional capricious nature...

We just let ourselves into Hell's Pass as we came up to the door. The doctors were pretty ill-experienced here, and tended to not give half a shit about the patients or legal codes.

I signed myself in and filled out the paperwork. I had my own credit card account (even if it wasn't worth shit and I'd been denied by almost every credit company).

We sat in the waiting room for what seemed like an hour, but Stan entertained me with stories of some of our past adventures. It was nice to dig up some old memories, even if the experiences themselves had been pains in the ass at the time. We laughed so hard that I was leaning over onto his shoulder for support even though we were sitting. The doctor came out and called my name to see me.

"Mr. Brovflovski-" he said, stopping himself when he saw me practically fallen over into Stan's lap and both of us writhing in laughter. "Well…_that's_ why you've got AIDS genius," he droned, holding the door open as I picked myself up and walked into the hallway.

* * *

><p><em>Yay, so now we're starting to see some attraction on <em>_**Kyle's**__ end. I'm sorry I gave him AIDS again. But, it's just part of the story…I've got it all written out…_

_And, if you don't get the title, look up Words Words Words on Youtube. I just like this song, so i named this chapter after it. Hungry, hungry, hippocrite~!_


	20. Kinks and Quirks

_Chapter 20_

_It's so hard to write right now…fucking season break….I'm dying. _

_Fucking Stevie Nicks being stuck in my head. _

_As "SomeoneCMary said…It's like South Park is saying goodbye…_

_Someone just kill me…_

_On a happier note, listen to 'little romance- Ingrid Michelson' once Stan and Kyle start playing videogames. It's just a cuter story with the song._

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

"So…what do you have?" Stan said, standing up as I walked out into the reception area, holding my coat over my arm. I realized I'd forgotten to take his hat off. I removed it from my head and passed it back.

"He just took a sample. I won't get any results until tomorrow."

"Dude…that sucks…" he said sympathetically, sliding my hat off his head and placing it in my palm.

"Yeah..." I mumbled. "But, I've got worse news. When I was in there waiting, I thought about how we could fix this with the generator, and I checked my pockets for the blueprints I left in them on Wednesday. They're gone…"

"Cartman has them?" he said in horror.

"I don't know. I hope he just lost them and they were destroyed or something… I've got the general design memorized well enough to put one together without it…but, I'll have to hurry or he might beat me to it."

"As if he can understand your writing…let alone the plans themselves," he noted.

"My handwriting's not _that_ bad…" I complained. Why did he enjoy picking out my flaws? It pissed me off and he knew it. "And…we can only _hope_ he doesn't understand what control rods or uranium bundles are…"

He stared at me. "_I_ don't even know what those are…but they sound perverted."

I punched him in the arm lightly, chuckling. Now that I thought about it 'control _rods_ and uranium _bundles_…' "Sick, dude! You say _I'm _the perv!"

He grinned crookedly. "You are!"

"Well then _you're _the perv in disguise or denial or some shit like that!"

He laughed and reached out for my hand. I grasped his and we turned to leave. He had such tiny hands it was funny. I always pulled that one out on him when he pissed me off. He was extremely self-conscious of the fact that his hands had never exactly grown into the rest of him. Well…maybe _I_ just had big hands…either way.

I sort of wondered why he was suddenly insisting on holding my hand, but I just shrugged it off. He probably wanted me to be reassured. I'd been sort of weary of him since we'd left Cartman's.

Stan was usually a very calm person. He was laid back and didn't get angry easily like I did. So, it had surprised me deeply when he'd lashed out at Cartman for using my virginity. I was starting to get the feeling that he loved me a bit more than in a confidante-type way. I wasn't sure if he realized it or not. And, there was no way to prove my theory.

I mean, we'd always gone together connately. It had always just been a natural thing as if we were born with it. I was always happier around him. He was a pessimist, but that only pulled the optimist out of me. It was easier for me to be the opposite of the people around me. I was used to being the situational diffuser.

"Hey, did you want to come over and play some videogames later?" I asked him. I wanted to distract myself somehow. I didn't want to deal with all this shit on my mind right now.

"Ah…actually, I've got a date with Wendy in about an hour…" he said carefully, glancing at his watch.

I chuckled lightly. "You move fast," I commented.

His cheeks colored and he just shoved his hand into his pocket. "I'm sorry," he said. "We can play videogames when I get home. It _is_ a Friday, right?"

"Yep. That sounds fine. It's not like _I'm_ doing anything tonight."

...:::...

MARSH

Well, I guess there was nothing I could really do about it if he did have some sort of STD. Why did I care anyway? Sure it would be unfortunate for him, but it wasn't like I was serious when I claimed his innocence.

I don't think I wanted to have sex with him, so it wasn't that. Maybe I just wanted him to kiss me again… That was innocent enough right? I mean, Kyle was a fucking _good_ kisser. But, if he had herpes or something, than I didn't want to get that from him.

We walked back to my house slowly. I still had an hour before my date and I really didn't plan on dressing up or anything. Wendy didn't usually mind. That was one of the awesome things about her. She didn't go all-out to try and impress me. She was so clear headed.

"Hey, did you want to come over and play some videogames later?" he asked out of nowhere.

"Ah…actually, I've got a date with Wendy in about an hour…" I muttered, glancing at my watch. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten to tell him.

"You move fast," he commented, grinning at me.

He seemed truly happy for me. It made my face heat up with pride. Kyle was a nice person. He always acted extremely interested in whatever it was that you were interested in…even if he didn't give a damn. But, I'd learned to tell where he really cared. There were few places where his interests held, many where he pretended, and few in between.

I was sort of proud that I was one of them… "I'm sorry," I apologized. "We can play videogames when I get home," I offered. But, I realized that I wouldn't get home until around ten. "It _is_ a Friday right?"

"Yep. That sounds fine. It's not like _I'm_ doing anything tonight," he said, flashing me a grin.

_That_ was precisely what I didn't understand. Kyle was the perfect guy. He was the splitting _image_ of the perfect boyfriend. I'd bet he had girls constantly drooling over him and trying to get him to date them. He shouldn't even be on the market. He should be taking advantage of what was laid out before him.

But, I guess I _did_ get to see a side of him that no one else really knew. Kyle was my best friend. He knew more about me than I could even appreciate and I liked to think that I understood him better than anyone.

Everyone else just saw a tall, lanky, polite Jew with some _fine_ looks... They didn't see all his knots and bruises, all his kinks and quirks. They just saw him for his appearance. And…that bothered me.

I didn't get to think more on the subject. We were at my house and he was already waving me off. I put on a smile and waved back, turning around so he wouldn't see before letting my grin fade.

Why did I want him to get a girlfriend so badly? I enjoyed my time with him and I knew that I'd have to share it with his girl if he got one. That shouldn't be what I _want…_

Maybe I just didn't want him to wait up. Now that Wendy and I were back together, I didn't want him to have to be alone. I would feel bad if Wendy came and sat on my lap while I was just chatting with him. I didn't want to make him feel left out. If he had to share _my_ time with Wendy, than I wanted to share _his_ time with some girl…

Guilt?

Whatever…

I walked upstairs to wash my face and comb my hair. It was the least I could do. At least Wendy was giving me another chance…

I turned on the television as I waited for the clock. I'd walk over at seven forty-five to be there at eight. I watched some Family Guy, but it was a re-run, so I flipped channels for a few minutes. The Colbert report was on, but I'd get interested in that if I started watching it and I'm make myself late.

I glanced at the clock. It was already time to leave. I stuffed my hat on my head and pulled on my gloves as I walked out the front door. "Mom, Dad, I've got a date with Wendy!" I called upstairs. "I'll check in around ten then I'm going over Kyle's," I shouted.

"Have fun," mom called down the stairs.

I closed the door behind myself, putting a key in my pocket. Wendy's house was just a little further than Kyle's. I thought quietly as I walked. The snow was melting quickly and uncovering the ground below as everything thawed.

I didn't mind the spring. It was just summer that I hated. It was unbearably hot and I didn't get to wear my favorite coat that I felt most comfortable in. I hated wearing short sleeves. Wendy's friends always wanted to feel my arms…they really _weren't_ that impressive. I had a little bulge of muscle, but it was small…

I was passing Kyle's house now. I glanced up to see his light was on. I'd bet he was doing homework right now. I smiled softly to myself. He always got his homework done early on the weekends. He'd probably let me borrow it on Monday.

I kept walking until I came to Wendy's house. I knocked on the door politely. I tapped my foot a little impatiently until the door opened.

Her dad was looming over me. I gulped. Her dad wasn't exactly a _mean_ man, nor did he hate me. It was just intimidating to talk to your girlfriend's dad… He let me inside with a warm smile. In fact, he sort of liked me.

"How is your father, Stan?" he said conversationally.

I caught myself before I said what I was really thinking '_dumb as ever'_. "He's good, sir. He's found this new hobby in making little models of Greek monsters. He stays busy," I answered politely.

He patted me on the back and led me inside to sit on their couch. I liked Wendy's house. It smelled like her. But, I guess _she_ actually smelled like her house. Whatever…

"So…Greek monsters?" he said, lifting a cup of coffee off the table and taking a ginger sip. It was still steaming.

I nodded. "Yeah, like from the myths. He's already done the Charybdis and Scylla, Cerberus, and some hellhounds. My mom is just glad that he's entertaining himself without being destructive."

He laughed and I cracked a smile.

"Dad?" Wendy's voice said from the staircase. We looked up. She wasn't wearing her hat. Her hair was pulled up behind her back and she was wearing a nice, but casual button up blouse. I was glad she had on jeans. It was a bit…too much when she wore short skirts. I didn't like the stares she attracted.

"Ah, hi Wendy!" I greeted.

"Hi, Stan," she said to me. She turned on her dad. "_You_ said that you wouldn't monopolize his time…dad…"

He laughed and patted my back, sending us out the door awkwardly. "I was just talking! Is that such a crime! I swear my _own_ daughter's getting all high and mighty on me…" he said jovially.

He closed the door behind himself. I turned to Wendy, smiling. "I think he likes me as much as you do," I teased.

She rolled her eyes. "He thinks you're smart."

"And you don't?" I said, feigning hurt.

"I think you complain a lot, but at least you know what you want," she said coyly.

I grinned, cupping her cheek and leaning in to kiss her softly. She smiled and pulled away. We linked hands and walked through her yard and into the street. It was about half a mile to Shakey's Pizza.

…

The date went about as well as it could have. She laughed at me when I dropped my pizza and I won her a plushie out of the crane machine. But, the entire time my spirits were high partly because I was looking forward to videogames with Kyle tonight. I think she could tell my thoughts weren't entirely with her.

We made the best of it and I walked her home. She kissed me at her doorstep. I slid my tongue in gently and she returned it. It was nice. It didn't feel passionate, and I didn't get excited over it, but it was nice. I got the feeling I could live with this…

I checked in with my parents before heading over to Kyle's. I was sure they wanted to make sure that I was being responsible and not lying about my time with Wendy. I didn't blame them.

It was about ten-thirty before I let myself into Kyle's house. It was sort of a ritual. After nine, just go in. The parents were usually asleep and it wasn't like we wanted to wake them. They were so old. Who goes to bed at nine?

Kyle was in the kitchen when I walked in the back door. "Hey, dude!" he greeted. He was holding a gram cracker and a glass of milk. He broke it in half and passed me the other side. "Want some?"

I took the cracker and we walked into the basement where he set up his Xbox. He hit the power button and we waited for Assassins' Creed Brotherhood to load. It wasn't my _favorite_ game, but it was still kickass.

We plopped down on the old couch in their basement. His bottom floor was mostly just storage, but there was some cool stuff down here. His father had a vintage record player and some big mounted fish that he'd caught a long time ago.

The game loaded and we started playing. I kept getting killed. It wasn't because I was bad, I was just getting distracted. He kept leaning forward and glaring at the flat screen, his knees tucked under him and lips pursed in concentration.

He turned to me angrily, "Stan, Goddamit! Why do you keep letting yourself get killed?" he cried, frustrated. "We've only been playing for ten minutes!" He paused the game.

For some reason, I was getting something I'd never had before…or at least never noticed. I was getting urges. It wasn't like with Wendy. With Wendy, I sometimes wanted to touch her hair or her knee; this was different. I wanted to grab Kyle and kiss him; I wanted to taste his soft lips again. I wanted to be closer to him than I was right now. I wanted to _so badly_, but I had to hold myself back.

Kyle had AIDS as far as we knew. If I initiated a kiss, I don't think I'd be able to keep it chaste. He'd kill me if I tried to get AIDS from him.

Why did I even want it anyway? I mean, the memory of our 'practice session' was still pretty vivid and very tantalizing, but still… I shouldn't want this right? I wanted him to get a girlfriend…didn't I? And, **I** _had_ a girlfriend that I loved, right?

He was still staring at me expectantly. "What?" he demanded.

"Ah…nothing…" I muttered. I was _sure_ that my face must be as red as a tomato. I was glad the light was off.

"Why are you staring at me?" he demanded. "Did everything go alright with Wendy?"

"Yeah!"

"Then what?" he said, frustrated.

"Am I not allowed to look at you?" I demanded, getting tired of this conversation.

"No! You're not allowed to stare at me!" he said firmly.

I opened my eyes as wide as they would go and inched up into his face, staring at him intensely from just inches away. He glared at me in mock-anger. I waggled my eyebrows. He laughed and pushed me off the couch. "God! You're so creepy!" he cried, grinning crookedly.

I laughed, picking myself up and punching him in the arm. He snickered, ignoring the pain. He jumped to his feet and grabbed my arms, pushing me over onto the floor. I grabbed his ankle and pulled him down too.

He toppled down on top of me backwards so his feet were in front of my face and his face was in my feet. He pushed himself up and his butt was in my face. "Dude!" I cried. He turned around and saw the position he was in. He grinned and shook his hips tauntingly. I kicked him in the chin.

He grabbed my foot and tickled it. "Ahahah! Du-dude! Sta-stop! You know I ha-hate that!" I cried through painful bouts of laughter.

He snickered. "Aw, is Stanie ticklish?" he laughed teasingly. He knew Goddamn well I was! (On my feet at least...)

I pushed his butt out of my face and ducked under his legs so I could get free. The wrestling continued though. He tackled me again and pinned my legs down, grabbing one of my arms with one of his and covering my eyes with the other.

I struggled, reaching up with my free hand and trying to find his arm. I found his face. My palm met his nose and fingers found his eyes. He laughed, loving that he was in control, probably finding my struggling cute. I groped around his face, finding his hair and winding my fingers in his soft curls.

I pulled his hair imploringly. I wanted to get free, but what I _got_ was even better. "Ah…" he moaned softly. His hand slacked on my arm and I pulled it free, releasing the arm he still had over my eyes.

I stared at his expression. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open a little. I could see a faint red coloration to his cheeks in the bluish television light. _He enjoyed me tugging his hair? _I wondered…

While his eyes were still closed, I gently twirled my finger in his hair and gently pulled it a little. He mewled in pleasure. My jaw dropped. He _did_ like it… I grinned. "Kyle? Do you like that?" I asked softly. His face was just inches from mine…

His eyes flashed open and he got to his feet. "Ah…I don't know why I did that!"

"Maybe it's just part of your body not being a virgin anymore…" I suggested. I'd heard that, once you had sex, you got turned on more easily.

He seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Ah…maybe. That _must_ be it."

"Do you want me to do it again?" I offered.

He just turned away and picked up his game controller, aborting our level and starting over on single player. "Do what you want," he said calmly, loading his new game.

I took his aborting me from the game as a hint. He _wanted_ me to play with his hair, and I was pretty happy to oblige. I walked around to the back of the couch and leaned against it while I gently buried my hands in his hair, enjoying the feel of it between my fingers.

I knew he'd fallen asleep when his character stopped moving on the top of a building where he was supposed to be scoping. I glanced down at him. He was snoring quietly.

I moved him so that he laid out flat on the couch, pushed up against the back. I propped a pillow on the armrest and lay down next to him, leaving some space between us. I flipped off the television and fell asleep to the sound of him snoring.

* * *

><p><em>The hair pulling thing was based off a story by<em> Ochiba Konpeki_. It's in my favorites…I guess I should've asked if I could use her idea. (I'm sure she won't mind…it's not like I'm quoting her exactly and I'm giving credit)_

_..._

_So…that was long. I just needed to write. I'm a bit depressed because I've convinced myself that South Park will die after this year. _

_I feel like I found it too late and missed out on so much. I just hope that the last season is a good one._

_And, if it really is the end…here's to a good run!_


	21. Not the Wee!

_Love is our Resistance~! –MUSE_

_I'm changing my mind again. I think that as long as the show stays popular and ratings stay high, the station isn't going to __**let**__ Matt and Trey stop. (Let's hope this) Plus, they've signed off to do __**17**__ seasons, not 15. We're good for two more years._

_So, here's chapter 21. I got so many reviews on my one shot! I wanna hug you people_

…_seriously._

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

There weren't any blankets in Kyle's basement, so why did I wake up so warm? I rolled over to find that he's snuggled up against my back in his sleep. I smiled. It was so cute how he was gripping around my waist and pressed himself to my back. I chuckled at how I felt like a big teddy bear.

I planned on sneaking out before his parents woke up, but maybe I could just stay for breakfast…

Kyle's brother was funny. He was about nine now. He still looked Canadian, but I guess some things don't change. He asked the most inappropriate questions. He asked what a condom was at the breakfast table.

Kyle's face turned white at the question. "Ike! Where'd you hear that?"

"_You_ asked me for one on Thursday! What the fuck is it?" Ike snapped.

Kyle's parents' faces had turned red and his mother was gripping her fork with vengeance. Kyle's mouth was gaping open and I had no idea what to do in this situation. I just pushed my chair back, deciding this was a good time to go home…

I stuffed my hands in my pockets as I walked home, chewing gum thoughtfully. As I walked into my driveway, I had to stop and double-take. Was Cartman over?

I pushed the garage door open and let myself inside, hanging up my coat on my dinner chair. "Hey, mom? Why is Cartman over?" I shouted up the stairs.

She came down carrying a basket of dirty laundry. "He's not, Stan. That's _your_ truck."

I stared at her. "My _truck_?" I confirmed.

"Randy!" she called up the stairs. "Did you get the chicken out of the freezer?" she shouted.

"Mom?" I said again to keep her attention.

"Ah yes, Stan. We just bought it from Ms. Cartman this morning. You'll be taking driver's ed in-car this week. They were selling it for a low price…your father jumped on it."

_Wow…Cartman moves fast…_ I thought to myself. It was just yesterday that Kyle told him to sell it. "Did you guys do all the paperwork and shit?"

"Language, Stanley…" she scolded. "And, yes. You're father did most of the paperwork, but we mostly trusted that it was in good shape."

"Fucking sweet!" I cried, running outside. She shouted something about language again and I ignored her. I opened the door to my new truck, happily and closed myself inside. This was awesome! It would kill Cartman, _and_ I got a truck out of the deal! Double the greatness!

…

BROVFLOVSKi

God…Ike had the _worst_ kind of timing. Couldn't he just wait and ask me when mom and dad _weren't_ listening intently…? Fucking…ah, fuck. They were staring at me.

"It was for Kenny!" I blurted.

That didn't help _at all_…damn… Why did my parents have to be so scary when they were trying…oh…Moses…

"Kyle? Why would you think that _Ike_ would have condoms?" dad demanded.

_That's_ what they were mad about. Wow… Cool! "Well, it's not like you hide them very well…I didn't know if he'd found them in your room or something?" I said hopefully.

My mom's face turned beat-red. Yeah, you can hear everything in this house…_everything_…if you catch my drift. She knew what I was talking about. They let it go almost immediately and just ate their breakfasts in silence.

I grinned stupidly. I couldn't believe I'd gotten out of that so quickly…

…

I spent the rest of the day outside. I walked to the junk yard off the side of Spruce Street and stole some scrap metal. I started constructing the wire structure for the reactor in my backyard.

It wasn't too bad outside. There was a lot of pollen in the air, but it wasn't cold or hot. It was just perfect outside. I nailed together metal piping and bent poles to meet at the top where I got a ladder to weld it.

"Ey! Jew? What're you doing?"

I flipped off my power torch and put up my mask. Cartman was standing on the ground below, looking up at me curiously. I sighed. "I'm building something so that I can make the money to cure myself. Did you sell your truck?"

"You were raising the money yourself? I didn't have to sell my truck!" he shouted.

I decided it might be wise to get down off my ladder… "_That_ was your punishment Cartman…" I sighed. "If I fix your mistakes for you all the time than you'll just do it again."

He grumbled something I couldn't hear.

"Are you mad?" I asked.

"Damn right I'm mad! I loved that truck!"

"It serves you right…" I muttered. "Now, help me bend this pole over…"

His glare faded with distraction. He looked up at what I was building. "What is this?" he wondered aloud.

"I'm building a nuclear reactor that won't require a water cooling system. So, if another disaster like Japan happens there won't be a danger," I informed him. Maybe it was a bad idea to let him in on this…

"Wait…is this what the blueprints in your pocket were?"

"Yeah…?" I said. Of course he remembered them _now_.

"You can't build this!" he cried, "It doesn't belong to you anymore…"

I turned and looked at him hard. "What do you mean?" I demanded.

"I sold the plans…"

"To _who_?" I growled.

"The Russian government… They gave me a hundred-thousand dollars for it! How could I pass that up?"

I stared at him in awe. How could someone be so incredibly stupid? "Because you could've gotten _millions_!" I cried, waving my arms in frustration.

His expression turned to horror. He fell over onto the ground, ripping up the grass. He was in shock. It would take a minute to pass. I was so _used_ to this shit, but it still made him overreact every time…

"Millions…millions…" he muttered over and over. I stared at him sympathetically. This was just pitiful.

"Get me the money," I said simply.

_That_ brought him back to reality. "Wha-what?"

"Pay me back what I could've earned. Make five million dollars and give it to me," I demanded.

"No!"

I stared at him before walking past him pointedly. I opened the gate from the backyard.

"Where are you going?" he questioned hesitantly.

"I'll break everything you own. Your PSP, your Wii, your Xbox, your movies, your dresser, your bed…everything," I assured him, turning to keep walking.

He grabbed my arm. "Alright! I'll get the money! Just stay away from my Wii!"

I smiled inwardly. That was always _too_ easy…

He ran back to his house to do _God knows what_. I had faith he'd get me the money…I just didn't _want_ to know how. That's the thing with Cartman. His ends don't define the method. He does what he has to, which comes in handy often, but gets us into trouble more often than not.

"I guess I'll have to disassemble this then…" I muttered, looking back at the frame of my reactor. "Goddamn Cartman…" I groaned. I set to work with my blowtorch again, melting down the connection at the top.

I hadn't even noticed how long it had been until I glanced at my watch. I'd come out here at like…nine in the morning. It was almost time for dinner. Wow…

"Hey, Kyle…" a feminine voice said behind me.

I set down the bar I'd just broken off and I glanced across the yard. Rebecca was leaning against my fence, looking at me with sweet brown eyes. She was wearing a green sweater and a grey skirt that came down past her knees. Under that, she had on a pair of stockings and a pair of cute little Mary Janes. Her hair was up in bows again and tamed back down to her curls.

She looked like an older, more mature version of the Rebecca I'd fallen for when I was nine…

"Um…hi?" I said, climbing down my ladder. I stared at her. This was such a big…change… I couldn't say I didn't _like_ it…

She fiddled with her hair nervously. "I just wanted to thank you…" she mumbled.

I stared at her. Was she thanking me for having sex with her? What? That was pretty fucked up…kinda. "For what exactly?" I wondered aloud.

She looked at me like was stupid. "For the money, genius!"

"Money?"

Her expression went blank. "Wow…you really don't remember? That's why I made you come back to my house after school…" she said, hoping it would jog some memory I didn't have.

"I'm totally lost? How much money did I give you?"

She smiled. "A hundred thousand," she said. "We promised to be safe, didn't we?"

My eyes widened. Cartman had given _her_ the hundred thousand before having sex with her? Did he know what he did? He must not…he still thought that I had AIDS… He must've not understood why she was asking for the money. Idiot…

I grinned. I didn't have AIDS. This was awesome! But…I still might have some other STD…

"Yeah…safe," I agreed. I guessed that Cartman had used a condom too. Even better. I'd have to thank him later. "So…um…you didn't have…anything then?" I said carefully.

She didn't seem to mind my being straightforward. "No. After I talked to you again, I started treatment. I got a short series of shots for my trick and syphilis. It was easy. You're totally clean…"

So then I was completely free… Fucking sweet! But, I'd still have to pay the money to get my results…whatever. I was clean!

Before I knew what I was doing, I was kissing her. I held her cheeks gently in my hands and connected our lips. They were sticky like she was wearing chapstick or something, but I ignored it. She took the initiative and slid her tongue into my mouth. I accepted it.

Cartman was right. She knew what she was doing. She was fantastic! Our tongues danced easily, as if the entire thing was choreographed. It was so easy to follow her motions, yet they were somehow unpredictable. It was an odd sensation…

…:::…

MARSH

I had a car! I can't even describe how awesome this was! I didn't even know how to drive yet, but I'd never expected to get a truck! I figured I'd be driving my dad's minivan around throughout the rest of my high school career.

I knew that this was probably just to make up for almost killing me, but still…I'd take it!

I wanted to go tell Kyle, but on my way, I ran into Kenny. I told him the story and he seemed sort of upset. "Dude? Why're you getting mad?" I wondered.

"You guys used me to perform a body swap and you completely forgot that I had to die for you! You do this every time! I'm so fucking sick of it! Is it too much to ask to just get some credit for once?" he cried.

What was he spouting? He was right here…so how could he have died? "Ah…Kenny, are you alright?" I said cautiously

"Physically? I'm fine, thank you for caring! But, no! I'm fucked up! I just _want to die!_" he shouted. "But, you wouldn't know! I can't! I can't fucking die! I've tried so many times! I've succeeded so many times, but you can't even _remember_!"

I reached out and hugged him before he burst out in tears. He was obviously going through something. Bragging to Kyle would have to wait…

I brought Kenny back to my house and feed him. He seemed to feel better after a few slices of cake. Food always seemed to cheer him up. I guess Poptarts weren't really all that great if you ate them every day. (I still considered them a delicacy though…)

He ate in silence. When he finished, I took the plate and put it in the dishwasher. "Feel better now?" I asked him kindly. I sat across from him.

He'd pulled his collar down just enough to eat. He didn't replace it on his face though. "I still feel like shit…but, I guess it comes and goes in waves. Maybe I'll film it next time and you can see…"

"What are you talking about? Is this still the nonsense about not dying or whatever?"

He slammed his fist down on the table. "Shut up! You _never_ believe me! Here! I'll write it down for you! Put it on your fridge and next time I die, read it. Read it again the next morning when I come back and you might have to believe it!"

He grabbed a sheet of paper and began writing.

_Stan,_

_Kenny McCormick cannot die. If he is dead and you are mourning, stop that. He'll be back tomorrow morning, and when he's sitting in the same crappy desk in the same crappy class as always, why don't you give a damn and believe him next time he tells you he doesn't die?_

He taped it to the fridge and gave me a pointed look before letting himself out of the house and turning to walk home. I sighed and let my head fall down onto my arms. What was all _that_ about anyway?

I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was passed lunch time already. I was supposed to meet up with Wendy at the bowling alley. I sighed and slipped my shoes on. It was warm outside so I left out the coat and hat.

Wendy was already waiting on me by the time I got there. She looked a bit impatient, but I _was_ almost half an hour late. "I thought you weren't showing," she said coldly. " I was just going to call my dad and go home…"

She put up a cold front, but I could tell I'd hurt her. She wasn't mad, just disappointed. I sighed and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry. Kenny came over…I think he wants to kill himself…"

Her expression softened immensely. "That's horrible! What did you tell him?"

"Well, he kept going on about how he couldn't die so I told him how that sounded crazy. He just wrote a note and told me to read it when he died," I explained.

Her expression darkened and she broke off into a sudden sprint. I stared after her in dumb shock for a second before chasing after her. "Why're we running?" I cried, trying to keep my breath. _Kyle_ was the one on track team…I wasn't built for running.

"Kenny's going to kill himself!" she cried, running faster.

"Wendy, he does this all the time!" I insisted.

She just kept running defiantly. "How can you be so uncaring? He's _your_ friend!" she cried.

I stopped running. She looked behind her and stopped as well. "Exactly," I said calmly. "Wendy, he's _my_ friend and I think that I can understand him a bit better…"

"Stan, what are you-"

"No, listen," I cut her off. "Kenny is strong-willed. I can't stop him from doing what he wants. If he wants to die and he's really as miserable as he seems, than it's not _my_ _**right**_ to stop him… I don't _want_ him to die, but if you love someone…sometimes you have to let them go…right?"

She stared at me. "So that's it? You'd just let him do it?" she demanded.

I frowned, but lifted my shoulders in a shrug. "If it's what he wants, I think he knows what's best for him. Why would I force someone to live who doesn't want it?"

Her jaw was hanging limp. "That's horrible, Stan! He'd regret it!"

"No…I really don't think he would…"

She just shook her head and stalked off angrily. I guessed this meant that the date was off? Well…thanks a **lot**, Kenny…

I glanced at my watch, wondering why I was getting hungry. Well it was almost dinnertime. That would explain it. I began walking home; hoping mom cooked the freezer pot pies as a back-up if she was planning on making that chicken…I was hungry…

I still hadn't told Kyle about my truck yet, so maybe I should to tell him real quick then come home and eat? Yeah, it sounded good.

I thought about this morning as I walked to his house. I'd woken up in my best friend's arms…again. It wasn't like it had been the first time it had happened, but it still felt different…like it was _meant_ to happen that way.

I was smiling to myself without even realizing. I shook it away as I walked over to Kyle's. I planned on going in the front door, but his back gate was open. They never left their gate open. I guess he was in the backyard.

I walked around the house and pushed the gate open enough to get through. I stepped into his yard and fell back against the fence. Kyle and Rebecca were kissing…furiously…

This was the _last_ thing I'd expected to walk in and see. Didn't she have STDs?

I don't even think they noticed my presence. They were too caught up in each other.

She looked like she had six years ago when he'd _liked_ her. He was gripping around her back and her hands were wrapped tightly in his hair. Her tugging was only getting him more and more into-it.

_I_ should be the only one who knows about that! I was the only one who could be trusted with that knowledge…

Oh…_God_…this was hard to watch…

I wanted to be sick, and not from being nervous. I felt…betrayed. But, why would I even feel like that? It wasn't like Kyle was _mine_. He was my best friend maybe, but he wasn't _mine_. It wasn't like I should have any say if he wanted to be with Rebecca…

He wasn't anything more than a best friend…

Did I want him to be? Is that what this was? …wow…I think I _wanted_ Kyle.

* * *

><p><em>And he understands! Can't you hear the angelic chorus singing halleluah!<em>

_Sorry I uploaded so late. I went to play racquetball with my friend afterschool. It was so fun! I might include it later on in the story~_

_Review?~_


	22. Socially Challenged

_Know what's weird? I don't even feel flattered anymore from all the people still favoriting my oneshot. I seriously don't want it. It's __**not**__ my greatest work, it __**does**__ have a lot of grammar mistakes, and I just want to forget that whole ordeal. _

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

God…what was _wrong_ with me. Yesterday I _wanted_ Kyle to get a girlfriend, but now…I _wanted_ Kyle to have…me…? What? Maybe I'd wanted him to get a girlfriend because I was in denial and wanted him to be taken so I couldn't want him?

I stepped back from the fence, unseen. Well…if _that_ had been my unconscious plan…it had failed miserably. Why did I have to learn what I wanted like _this_? Having it taken from me?

I sunk down to the side of the fence. There wasn't anything I would do at this point. If he wanted Rebecca, than who was I to break them up? He'd always been supportive with me and Wendy, so I'd have to take the high road and remember that, first and foremost, I was his _best_ friend. It was my _job_ to help him and stand behind him. He'd done it so many times for me.

I stood and balled my fists. I guess I needed to figure out this whole Wendy thing…

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

I wasn't sure where that had come from. I was just so happy! I didn't have any incurable diseases! That was _one_ **major** stress off my list. I guess Rebecca had simply been there and I'd kissed her just for that fact.

We broke apart and she was staring into my eyes with a strange expression. I couldn't put a word on it, but she was gazing, happy but not smiling. "So…what are we exactly?"

I was at a loss. I wasn't in love with her. She was nice, and she'd pulled herself together apparently, but I stil…wasn't _in love_… I didn't know how to answer. If she was proposing we become a couple…I wasn't going to say 'yes' just because there was no reason to say 'no', but I couldn't say no either because there was no reason to. Well, she might be the best suited girl for me. I needed time to judge her and get to know her better…

I sighed. "Let's just…see what happens?" I proposed.

She nodded understandingly. "That's probably logical. I'm tired of rushing things…" she said, tapping my cheek with her fingertips. "Thank you for curing me, Kyle…"

"Speaking of being cured…" I began. "When did you take on this big…change?" I wondered, asking her delicately.

She looked down at her sweater and smiled vaguely. "Yeah…I guess I'm done chasing perfection. I know what I want and I know what's within the realm of my grasp. The only reason I whored myself out back then was that I didn't believe you loved me. I still wanted that good feeling you gave me, so I tried to find someone who could do the same. I guess I feel like I don't really need to search anymore. I'm not going to find anyone anyway…"

_I'd_ done all this? She made me feel so important; like everything I said or did to her held the most possible significance. I knew how delicate this would be then. Rebecca was still so socially challenged. If I handled her the wrong way, she'd be thrown to do something else.

"I'm flattered," I said carefully. "But, I don't really know how to feel about you yet to say whether or not I'll be with you. I think you should keep your mind open, but don't stress yourself over it. There's so much more to life than love."

She grinned, "You're so right…Kyle, thanks."

I smiled. My name sounded nice when she said it. "Bye…" I said as she turned to walk away.

She glanced back. "Bye, Kyle."

Well…it wasn't my imagination. It did sound sweet. She said it with that weird emotion again…adoration? Maybe…

I collected the scrap metal I'd stolen so I could bring it back to the dump yard. I dumped it onto my old wagon and into a backpack. It wasn't _that_ heavy, but it wasn't exactly light either.

I began walking back to Spruce Street with my charge. I opened the fence and was caught by a hand. "Hey, where're you going?" they demanded.

I turned to see Stan. His calm expression seemed a bit…forced, but he just forced on a smile. "I'm going to return this metal…" I answered hesitantly.

He reached for my shoulder and I almost pulled back. I don't know why I was suddenly so jittery, but I felt like he'd seen something. I think he must've been here when I'd kissed Rebecca. I felt a bit awkward…for some reason.

"Why did you have it in the first place?" he demanded evenly.

I frowned. Was he grumpy or what? He was jumping facial expressions so quickly…or maybe I was imagining things. But, he was smiling one second then shoving questions down my throat the next? What was up? I guess I could just act normal in case I _was_ imagining it.

"I started working on the reactor, but Cartman already sold the plans for it to the Russians. He made a hundred-thousand dollars off it…"

"God…that fat ass. He could've made millions…" he muttered, disappointed.

"I know. But hey, guess what?" I cried.

His eyebrows lifted in confusion. "What?" he said slowly, cautiously.

"I'm completely clean! Rebecca had already been treated before Cartman did anything with her. And, he used the money he got from the blueprints to cure her AIDS. I'm clean. We don't have to worry about that money!"

His expression wiped clean. He just stared at me, slack-jawed. He looked confused, relieved, and assured. "You…you're sure?"

I grinned, "Positive," I confirmed.

He sat silently before moving slowly to grab my wrist. He pulled me forward and wrapped his arms around me carefully. His fists closed into my shirt and he held me tightly, possessively. I hugged back with a bit less intensity. He was _definitely_ acting strange. Why would seeing me kiss Rebecca mess him up like this?

"Are you alright?" I asked, still being crushed with his grasp.

"Just a bit hungry," he answered cryptically. That wasn't what was bothering him. It was probably true, but there was something else…

"Well, let's go grab something to eat," I suggested. We could pretty much walk anywhere in town in about fifteen minutes. (That's one of the perks of living in such a small redneck town) "And after that, I'll get my test results from the doctor so they won't call my house and we can go to the Y and play some racquetball afterwards."

He nodded silently.

…:::…

MARSH

Ah…it was painful to hold back. If he was clean, I wanted to kiss him _right now_. I'd held myself off yesterday, but this was like holding the doors open to a candy store where everything was free, then telling me the store was closed…

I wanted our faces pressed together tightly and his lips tightly connected to my lips. I wanted his tongue wrapped around mine. I wanted his hands to find their mark on my body and I wanted to ravage him.

What was wrong with me? I was lusting after my best friend. I'd never even considered my own sexuality… How could I neglect something so major? I don't think I was gay…I'd never been attracted to a guy before anyway. It was just Kyle.

Maybe it was because of the emotional attachment. I don't think I could fall in love with like…Kenny or Clyde. It was just Kyle. Wait…did I just say 'fall in love'? Was I…? No…it was just lusting…yeah! That's when all these thoughts had begun was when Kyle had gotten that _stupid_ make-over. He made himself hot and now I was attracted to him and lusted for him. That was all it was and I'd just have to control it.

I still could do little things right? Like hugging him…he hadn't seen anything wrong with that, though he did seem to think that I was being off. Maybe he could sense how awkward I was feeling? Because these urges were making me pretty tense right now…

"Um…why don't we go to KFC?" he suggested. He reached out and held my hand gently.

Why was that so surprising to me? We'd held hands all the time… It wasn't like it was weird or anything. It just suddenly felt so much more intimate than it really was. My chest fluttered and I felt like my stomach was rising. Wow…this was weird.

"Yeah…" I said, sounding so much more calm than I'd expected. Thankfully, my voice was very obedient to the needs of the situation.

We walked into town, hand in hand and walked through the drive-thru. This was such a hic-town that they didn't usually care. I paid for a bucket of fried chicken wings and we walked while eating.

Hell's pass was on the other side of town, so we'd all but finished our chicken by the time it came into view. I dumped the empty cardboard bucket into a trashcan beside the door and walked in behind Kyle.

I had to wait in the lounge again as he went in to get his test results. I really hoped he was right about Rebecca being clean. I wanted the best for him…I guess. It really _shouldn't_ bother me if he had an STD…beside the fact that I couldn't kiss him. Because it wasn't like I wanted to have _sex_ with him. I'm sorry, but he didn't have anything for me to have sex with…

I trusted he was clean. I trusted his word on it, and I wasn't surprised when he came out grinning. He held up the papers triumphantly. "All clean! I told'ja so!"

I nodded, smiling, "I believed you…" I said defensively.

He patted my head, "I know, I know. I just felt like rubbing it in someone's face…! Let's go play racquetball!"

I grinned. We didn't often go to the Y, but we both had memberships. My dad kept pestering me to join the football team and he wanted me to get 'ripped' this summer or some shit like that. I really didn't like exercise much though…

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

We locked ourselves in a racketball room and just wacked the ball around the room as hard as we could. We both _really_ sucked, so we'd swing, miss, and just end up spinning in circles on our toes, shouting and making faces at each other when we missed.

Occasionally some other unfortunate soul at the Y would walk past the glass and we'd run up, screeching and press our faces against the window to freak them out. We were totally trolling on _everyone_. It was really funny because we both opened up so much when we were high on exercise.

It was fucking _cold_ in the racquetball room, so we didn't sweat at all. That just made us exercise without realizing we were tired. Before we knew what had happened, an hour had passed.

I backed up to the wall, leaning against it and sliding down to the floor. He dropped his racquet and joined me. "Phew…I didn't even realize I was so tired…" he glanced at me. "That was fucking _intense_, dude!"

I laughed. "Ah, yeah. You almost nailed me in the nuts like twice!"

He laughed. "That would've been _so_ funny!"

I punched him in the arm, laughing. "That's sick dude!"

He shrugged and began tossing the ball. It bounced off the wall and came back to him. He tossed it back and continued his game for awhile. It made a loud popping noise as it bounced off the painted plywood walls. He always caught it.

I sat silently for a minute until I couldn't take it anymore. I _had_ to comment. "Playing with yourself, are you?" I said casually.

He turned and quirked a dark eyebrow until he understood the joke. His eyes lit up with realization. He laughed and brought his hand down between his legs, pretending to jerk himself off. "Ah! Yeah, man! Totally playing with myself!"

I cracked up and fell over onto his shoulder. His face was _absolutely orgasmic_! He threw his head back with laughter. I didn't even understand why it was so funny! Endorphins are a fucking _great_ thing…I'll tell you.

I knew something was bothering him earlier, but it didn't matter anymore. We could clear our heads so easily sometimes… He didn't seem to have a care in the world. He propped his elbows on his bent knees and turned to gazed at me, his eyes half-lidded.

I stared back… Why was he making that face at me? He looked so content and tender, like he was looking at something small, breakable, and lovable; which…none of those adjectives fit me.

"What?" I demanded. He did this _same_ thing last night. It was so…_weird_.

"Ah!" he tore his eyes away, apparently not realizing what he was doing. "It's nothing…"

I stared at him curiously. He was fumbling with the dark blue rubber ball we'd been playing with. "Dude…what's wrong with you?"

* * *

><p><em>Trololo~ Cliffhanger! <em>

_I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday. I was busy with drama club and my friend's birthday. It was a long day…I'm so sore right now._


	23. Procrastinating

_So, I've got a Spanish exam tomorrow…I'm terrified…I feel like I haven't learned anything all year…God help me._

_Time for me to analyze my own story~!_

_Okay, the last chapter was called socially challenged to be sort of a pun. Rebecca was the one described that way directly by Kyle, Stan was describing himself that way indirectly, but Kyle is probably the worst of the lot of them. He doesn't even __**know**__ if he's feeling anything. _

_I went back and reread my earlier chapters and I'm realizing how cold he can be without really noticing. He just takes all the emotion stuff so casually yet so seriously, like it's something far away from him that he doesn't know if he's allowed to touch it. In the reviews everyone is wondering what he's feeling and that's pretty much it. _

_Kyle thinks like I do. He respects the concept of love but doesn't think it's for him._

_And the storyline progresses…_

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

I got back home and hung my coat on my dinner chair. I smiled to myself as I walked upstairs for a shower. I'd been able to dodge _all_ of Kyle's suspicious questions today. Granted, it _had_ been close a few times since I couldn't keep my eyes away from him, and that made him suspicious, but I still had the feeling that I'd be able to keep reigns on myself long enough to work this out with myself.

I just needed some time to figure out why I was suddenly having strange thoughts about my best friend. I couldn't just throw them to the back of my mind like I'd always done and disregard them as if they didn't exist.

I mean, Kyle had always been at least a _little_ more than a friend to me. How much was indiscernible, but I knew he wasn't just my best friend. When I was younger I'd figured that he was like my brother, but since I had a _real _sibling, I quickly threw that thought away. Kyle was much cooler than a sibling.

Sunday passed quickly. I went to church then spent the rest of the day doing homework and finishing my chores. I lived in a catholic house, yet we still do all our actual _work_ on Sundays…I don't get it.

…

Considering the fact that I'd turned fifteen in October, I had to take the in-car portion of the driver's-ed course at school. It's not like I was particularly excited to be sitting in class for an extra three hours, but it would be nice to finally be able to drive myself to school. My dad had to drop me off early in the mornings so he could make it to work, but for me, it meant I was at school two hours early on a daily basis. Unfortunately, my school days would be about twelve hours long until this class was over with.

I already made it through the first three days of the two weeks, and it was Wednesday now. Currently, I was sitting in math class, the last class of the day. I'd finished my test in the first fifteen minutes of class, thanks to Kyle's insistent study sessions.

Now, all that was left to do was my fucking homework. I didn't feel like doing it right now. Kyle would just let me copy his in the morning anyway if I didn't get it done. It made me feel a bit guilty.

I put my hands down in my lap under the cramped desk and let my head fall onto the tilted surface of the desk. After two days of this God-forsaken class, I'd quickly realized that it was going to be more stressful than informative in the end. I sure as hell wasn't going to give up my nightly schedule and alter my sleeping schedule just for some fucking driving class. Hell no!

But, I was paying for that dearly. I had deep bags under my eyes; I'd noticed them this morning. I had lost a lot of my normally vigorous appetite and I slept through half of my classes. It was only TWO DAMN WEEKS! Damnit!

I think I'd get some sleep since I was done with my test…

I closed my eyes and let my thick black hair cover my face. Soon, I was feeling lighter and starting to relax and fall under.

"Stanley?" my teacher said loudly, making my neck snap up and my vision to blur for a second. "Are you alright?"

"Ah…yeah, just tired…" I muttered. Mr. Thomas looked at me quizzically. I decided to skip the part where he asks all the questions one by one, and I covered them all at once. "I've got driver's-ed this week…and it doesn't end until six-forty-five. If I sleep in the backseat while the other kid's he'll count me absent and I'll have to go to the make-up date..."

"And you think it'd be better to fall asleep in math class?" he demanded.

Okay, now I was getting pissed. All week my teachers have been pushing tests, homework, projects, and class work on me and I was stressed to my limit. I'd snapped on Kenny twice and Kyle had already figured out that he should just avoid me this week.

I mean for Pete's Sake! I'd finished my work! I think it would be fine if I rested for fifteen minutes before going to a three-hour class, damn!

"Quite frankly Mr. Thomas, yes I do. I'll do my homework at home, but I can't fall asleep," I said as politely as I could muster. With that, I let my head fall back onto my desk.

I got in a few more minutes of peaceful euphoria before I felt Token start to shake the back of my head. Apparently he'd been having a conversation with Bebe, who sat in front of me, about how he understood what I was going through since he'd taken the class a few weeks back.

Somehow he figured _now_ would be a good time to tell _me_ this. I sat up, glaring daggers into his head. "What?" I cried.

"Dude, you got Mr. Bates?" he said as if I wasn't trying to kill him with my eyes.

"No," I said simply, "the guy next door. He's old and a dumbass and walked into the whiteboard on the first day. He said that if we were in a car and that was a collision, we'd be dead."

"Yeah, I always texted in that class, it's boring as hell, dude."

"If we use our phones, he takes them. He's caught five people. I'm not chancing it," I bit, propping my head up and closing my eyes.

They let me sleep until the afternoon announcements came on. Apparently someone had stolen all the handles to the pencil sharpeners and the principal was sending out a plea for them. I sighed as I shoved my homework into my backpack and threw it over my shoulder.

"Just two more days after today…" I muttered, trying to see it as motivation.

I let myself be swallowed by the crowd of highschoolers in the breezeway, all going different directions. I tried to fight the urge to beat the crap out of the slow kid in front of me. There was _always_ a slow kid…for some reason.

I ploughed my way through the rest of the crowd, cutting people off and passing "illegally". I walked out of the lines of school buildings and toward the pods where the class was.

To my surprise, Kyle was leaning on the railing to the wheelchair ramp. "Hey dude," he greeted, thrusting out a Monster to me. "Figured you'd be sleeping in driver's ed if you couldn't stay awake in math…Token told me you were plastered to the desk the whole time."

I glared at him, "Dude, you know I don't drink Monsters, they taste like fatass piss!"

He stared at me. "You've drank Cartman's piss?" he said, bewildered.

smacked him lightly, laughing. "I was just making a point! Thanks for bringing it, but I really don't think I can afford to be jittery in class." I gave him an apologetic smile. "Why're you still here anyway?" I questioned. I thought he'd be avoiding me for the week…not that I was mad to see him…I was happy actually.

"I figured I'd try out for the football team for next year. They go alphabetically, so I'll have to go in a few minutes. I heard you were trying out too so we can carpool or whatever," he said, shrugging. He smiled. "Plus, it wouldn't hurt for me to bulk up a bit. On another note…When's your class start?" He stood up, shoving the foul drink into his backpack and bringing out a half-empty bottle of Coca-Cola. He uncapped it, put it to his lips and took a careful sip.

I glanced at my watch, "In three or four minutes. I don't wanna go, dude…it sucks in there, the desks are too small, I'm surrounded by retards, and the teacher is ancient and boring! It's hell!"

I ignored my childish complaining like he always does and held out the Coke. "Here, drink up. It'll be over before you know it," he said calmly. "Just nine more hours of it…behind the wheel…for you…eighteen if you count waiting on your classmate you're riding with…" he said as if that was helpful.

"I wish you could take it with me, it wouldn't suck as much then…" I said, half-pleading even though I knew it was useless. He wouldn't be old enough to take it until the summer. He just smiled softly and watched as I drank deeply from his Cola. I handed it back shrugging. "I guess I gotta go…" I muttered, defeated.

I'd been pissy all week, and I realized it. It was still impossible to get angry at Kyle for too long.

I walked up the ramp and down the hall. I was early, as usual. The math class was closest to the pods, so I was always the first in the classroom. It gave me the chance to finish the chapter of "Of Mice and Men" for English class.

All the teachers were piling us down with work since school was ending very soon. I was pretty stressed out. It didn't help that I was letting Kyle avoid me. But, if he didn't I would probably end up pissing him off again. I didn't want to deter him, so I'd leave him to his own devices for now.

...:::...

BROVFLOVSKI

Football tryouts were typical. They tested us on strength, speed, coordination, and endurance. It turned out that the coach had made the last-minute decision to go backwards alphabetically so I was at the end of the list. I ended up waiting for a few hours just to get weighed. Why did so many kids want to play football?

By the time we were finished, I felt like I'd jumped into a pool I was so soaked with sweat. I didn't usually get tired so easily since I had pretty good stamina from track. I didn't even _want_ to know how bad I smelled…

I went into the locker room and rinsed myself off in the showers. I was too _stupid_ to bring soap or anything…maybe I could steal some of the hand soap…

"Hey Kyle!" someone said behind me.

I jumped, wearing only a school towel, hair wet, and holding the soap dispenser off the wall. "Ah! God! You scared me, Butters…"

"Ah…I'm sorry," he said, shrinking considerably.

"What're you doing here anyway?" I wondered as I removed the soap bag from the dispenser and replaced it on the wall.

"Well, I had to stay after for detention…because I'd been bad…"

"What did you do?" I said casually, getting into the shower and dropping my towel. He always overreacted when someone told him he'd screwed up. I turned to see Butters was turned around awkwardly, probably overly-conscious of the fact that I was stark naked, but we were both guys…why would it matter?

"Because!" he said urgently. "Cartman and I's fighting outside Mrs. Doss' room!"

"Fighting with Cartman?" I said curiously, turning to look at the back of his head. "No one ever gets in trouble for fighting him…the teachers usually root for those who do… What was it about?" I asked.

"He was talking bad about you. That's why I came here to talk to you…" he continued, but he stopped there again. Seriously? Did I have to goad all my answers out of him?

"What is he saying? Did you win the fight?"

"Oh, I roughed him up a bit!" he said, shaking his fists like he thought I wasn't looking. "Because he was saying nasty, untrue things! I threatened to bring out that video you gave me two weeks ago!"

"What did he say?" I urged.

"Ah…golly, Kyle. He's telling people that you've got AIDS… I told him that you didn't even have a girlfriend and that it was ridiculous!"

I snickered. Wow…really? I would've thought he was more mature than this! How low? Butters turned around for a second to see why I was laughing, but his face burned bright red and he quickly turned back around.

"It's not true, right?" he confirmed.

I laughed. "No, Butters. I don't have AIDS…but go ahead and let him tell people that. I don't really care, no one will believe him," I said, rubbing some soap over my arms.

"That's what you _always_ say, Kyle…" he reminded me. "Somehow people always end up believing him…"

"Just let it go," I said dismissively.

"Are…are you sure?" he pleaded.

I turned around completely, "Yes, Butters! I can handle it!"

He just shivered and left the locker room in a hurry. I poured some soap into my palm and ran it into my sweaty hair. I heard the door close behind him as he left. I gently massaged my scalp until I felt like it was clean. I hated feeling all sweaty…and the fact that I was such a neat freak about it. I was the _only_ one who'd come in to shower…

I shook my head in disbelief…teenagers…so dirty.

"Kyle?" a new voice called into the locker room. I recognized it immediately. Well…did _everyone_ want to see me naked today? Whatever…

"Hey, Stan," I called, turning off the water. "Gimme a minute!" I said, leaning over to the brick dividing wall to grab my towel.

He rounded the corner of the lockers, stopping in his tracks. I was just barely pulling on my towel as he'd stepped out into the open. I concentrated down at my hip as I tied a knot to keep the white school towel in place.

"Hey, dude," I said calmly.

He choked on his saliva, eyes still wide.

"What?" I said. Was he alright? He was beginning to worry me… His face was more pale than normal and his bright blue eyes were frantic. He still had bags under his eyes, and his black hair was messy. "Are you sick or something?" I said bluntly.

He winced. "Yeah…sick…" he replied.

…:::…

MARSH

I should've just waited outside. He was definitely going to realize _something_ if I didn't stop staring. But, I'd never expected _this_. Kyle was pretty defined. He wasn't _big_ or really all that muscular, but what muscles he did have were very profound. He was lithe and his skin was wet and smooth. I'd come so close to seeing _everything_…

Was it wrong to want to lick his abs? Oh…Jesus.

"Stan?" he demanded impatiently.

"I'm feeling kinda sick…" I muttered. I ran quickly from the locker room, completely forgetting to grab my bag. Maybe I _should_ join the football team…if he made it on…

* * *

><p><em>How's <strong>that<strong> for fanservice?_

_Alright, I've based Stan's appearance off someone on Deviantart, and I'd like to reference everyone to see his work. This boy is __**fine**__. His screen-name is 'Wakeupnaked' check out his pictures XD_

_Review~_


	24. This Blows

_Today was the last day of school for me~! I'm so happy!_

_But it also means I'll probably be busier. Oh well. That just sucks for you guys since I'll probably be a bit slower with updates._

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><p>BROFLOVSKI<p>

I tugged on a shirt and put all my clothes back on. I wondered if Stan was okay… He seemed pretty freaked out earlier. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd seen that much of me, though last time was when we were like ten. But still.

Why was he being so awkward lately? Maybe I should just leave him alone for awhile. I stuffed the bag of soap back into its dispenser and snapped it back onto the wall. I needed to think of some other way to get money.

I would have to start thinking about car insurance soon and I don't think I'd even be able to _apply_ with the kind of credit I had. I didn't want to be the one kid who was still riding the bus! How lame would that be?

Maybe I should get a job. Maybe I could get two jobs. I could work at least three over the summer… This was going to suck…

…:::…

MARSH

I needed to calm down. I walked home slowly and hoped to _God_ that Kyle didn't catch up. I don't think I could handle seeing him at that moment. What would I do if he really _did_ get together with Rebecca? I still had Wendy…Wendy… I needed to think this one through…

I let myself inside my house and threw myself onto my couch. All there was to do was wait for dinner to be ready. I could hear mom in the kitchen probably burning it. Shelly was probably out with her boyfriend again. She always seemed to be with that douche…whatever, it's not like I cared that much really.

My eyes were growing heavy. It had been such a long day….

…

I had nearly fallen asleep when there was a sharp knock at the door. I groaned, "Someone answer the door!" I yelled.

No one replied.

What? I thought mom and dad were home… I could've _sworn_ I heard her cooking. This was weird. I groaned and pushed myself up. My vision swirled a little as I stood, but maybe I'd just stood too quickly. I ignored it and unlocked the door, opening it and watching as Kyle stepped inside.

"What are you doing here?" I wondered.

He didn't answer; instead he suddenly grabbed my face and landed a soft peck to my cheek. I turned and stared at him, my cheeks on _fire_. "Wh-what was that for?" I demanded.

He just smiled and grabbed my hand, lacing his thin fingers through mine. I felt lightheaded and a little confused. "I like you, Stan…" he drawled. "…A lot…"

He closed the gap between us, leaning over and kissing me deeply. His mouth was open and licked my lips hungrily. I gasped, and he took the chance to slip his tongue into my mouth.

Well…we couldn't do this on the doorstep where the entire neighborhood could see… I grabbed the back of his neck and drug him inside, never pulling away. He kicked the door shut with his foot; it slammed a bit too harshly and rattled in its frame. He wrapped both arms tightly around my torso, and we toppled over onto the living room floor. He followed me down and landed on top, still keeping us connected. His tongue was warm and wet. It searched my mouth and I sucked on it gently, caressing it with mine.

I broke off for air. "I…ha…I like you too. A bit _too_ much," I admitted.

He grinned and leaned over, unzipping my jacket. He pressed himself to me tightly, but he didn't put so much pressure that I couldn't breathe. It didn't take me long to work out that he wanted to have sex. But, I didn't mind. I wanted it…I wanted _him_…I think…yes.

"Ahaha…horny, are we?" I mumbled, hand straying down between us to palm him. It was just teasing, but apparently it was true. Jesus…he was such a sex addict. He groaned something inaudible and reconnected our mouths, tongue moving furiously. I moaned, trying to breathe through it. His cock was growing firmer in my palm…

I stroked my hand gently over his crotch. I could feel him reacting to it under his zipper with little twitches. I knew that my parents could walk in at any moment, but this was too great. I _couldn't_ care about something like that right now. I just wanted to make love to Kyle…_my_ Kyle, my best friend.

He nibbled at my lip, rolling it between his teeth. "Ah…" I groaned; it felt good…

I abandoned his cock and began slowly fiddling with his zipper to his jacket. I didn't want to seem _too_ eager, but I wanted to be closer. I pushed the zipper down and slid the sleeves up over his arms. He grumbled, disappointed to the loss of stimulant against his crotch.

He broke off my mouth and bit his lip. He reached down, gently unzipping my jeans and tucking his fingers under the denim. He looked at me briefly for permission and I just nodded him along, unable to hide my excitement (no pun intended).

I slid my arms out of my sleeves as he pushed my pants down off my waist. I felt a little cold and embarrassed from being so exposed, but I pushed it aside and grabbed the back of his head. I pulled him in for another searing kiss; I felt him struggling to kick his pants off while still making out with me furiously. His hands kept abandoning their stripping plight to weave into my hair. With the way he was playing with it, I was beginning to think he had a fetish for my hair…

Considering how bare we were by now, I lost all sense of not wanting to be eager. He was pitching a pretty good tent himself. I glanced back up to his face, to stare lovingly into his eyes. They were so dark and pretty… His cheeks were tinged red and his mouth was open to breathe properly. He was panting a bit despite it; eyes half-lidded as he gazed back.

"Stan…" he breathed. "Do you want to continue?" he checked, though I could tell he wouldn't be able to stop by now anyway…

I grabbed his slender hips and ground myself against him as tightly as I could. "What do you- think…?" I grunted. His eyes closed and his head slowly drew back as he enjoyed the friction. His hair was starting to cling to his face as was mine. We were overheating and unless we could relieve it somehow, I don't know how long it'd be until we cooled off…

I felt his hands against my bare sides, gliding up and down smoothly. His touch felt nice…I closed my eyes. His fingers gently tugged on my boxer shorts, pulling them down and completely exposing me.

I blushed a bit under his stare and I scooted down beneath him to remove his boxers gingerly. I stopped to look. I'd seen a dick before. They weren't the most attractive thing on earth. It wasn't like I _liked_ dicks or anything, but since it was Kyle; I found everything about him appetizing.

I slid my hand against him as I pushed myself back up on the floor. He hissed in pleasure, leaning over and biting down on my shoulder to relieve the excitement. I clawed my hand into his back in response. He moaned. He didn't seem to mind my fingernails in his back and I didn't really care how hard he bit me. I'd just wear a collar tomorrow or something.

I didn't really _care_ that we were moving quickly. For God's sake, we were guys, when we wanted it, we _wanted_ it. He nibbled lower and lower across my torso, leaving a little trail of red marks. I moaned; it felt so _good_.

He made it down my body to my aching manhood. He glanced up at me slowly, dark eyebrows creasing up. I bit my lip, elbows supporting my weight so I could look down at him properly. He just placed a gentle kiss to the tip of my erection and came back up on his hands and knees to kiss my mouth. I grumbled into the kiss, disappointed. I'd thought I was going to get a blow job…

"You tease…" I ground out.

"No worse than you…" he breathed back. I frowned, had he thought I was going to blow him earlier when I'd take his boxers off? Maybe I _did_ sit and stare for too long… It wasn't nice to tease…

I placed a hand into the center of his chest and pushed him off. He looked at me, hurt, but I just ignored it as he got to his feet. I took his hip and pushed him against the door, remaining on my knees. He leaned against the door, staring down at me confused, but his expression was hypnotic.

I tore my eyes away and held his hips down. I gulped and stared down at his cock. I'd _never_ thought about doing anything like this before… I wasn't sure if I _wanted_ to know what this would taste like, but I'd try it anyway.

I kissed the tip of Kyle's cock, sucking on the very tip gently for a second or two. Then, I cracked my lips open and let my head fall down onto him just a little. I slid my lips over the head and slowly down the shaft.

Kyle knotted his hands in my hair and made a helpless little whimper. I could tell he wanted this, but we both knew that someone could walk in at any minute. But, that fact was sort of turning me on even _more_.

I held his hips down so he wouldn't buck up into my mouth as I sucked gently on his cock. I slid it almost completely out of my mouth, and then back in as far as I could get it without choking.

He was panting already, his hands gripping desperately into my hair like he wanted to rip it out. It hurt a little, but I ignored it and nibbled on his heated flesh. I gently tickled what of his cock I couldn't fit into my mouth.

He took a shaky breath and shuddered. His knees buckled under him and he slid slowly down the wall until he was sitting on the floor with his legs apart for me, giving him the first blow job of my life (hopefully the only).

I pressed my tongue up against the more sensitive underside of his shaft, rubbing my rough tongue along the most sensitive bits of the head.

Kyle was grousing with his head tipped back. "God Stan! Keep going…please, don't stop…" he pleaded. I laughed at how much he sounded like a whore talking like that. I hardly cared though and he didn't seem to notice. I kept sucking firmly.

I felt his cock begin to throb intensely. I gently moved my hand to feel his balls, fondling slightly. They were heating up and pulsing. Kyle was going to orgasm… I couldn't let him cum all over our carpet or my parents would know… I had to swallow it. So, I prepared myself for what was coming.

I ran my other hand up to his smooth, firm stomach to feel him tremble; keeping the other hand on his balls so I could feel it when he came. He was getting close. I could tell he was trying to hold it back.

I didn't like that. Did he think I couldn't take it? I bit down hard on his erection and he cried out, his back arching as he fell over the edge. A long stream of cum shot out into my mouth and merged with my saliva. It was sticky and tasted salty, but I allowed it. In fact, I lapped at the tip of his cock as he came to prolong his orgasm. His moaning was building my pleasure as well.

He trembled, still whimpering, and then collapsed entirely on the floor, head leaned against the wall, panting and clutching as his balls emptied entirely into my mouth. I did something I never thought I would do and I swallowed the whole thing. Traces of his flavor were left on my tongue. It had a sweat after-flavor, like when you lick your tears off your cheek…

After I'd finished, Kyle was smiling at me softly with an odd expression. I was sure I'd used it before. Adoration? Yes… I slid my naked self gently up Kyle's body and kissed him deeply, gliding my tongue into his mouth so he could taste his own seed.

He groaned and pushed me off, back down onto the floor. "Let me repay the favor," he insisted. He pressed a hand into my chest as he threw a leg over my hip. I let my hands fall onto his thighs as he positioned himself above me. I think I was seeing where this was going, and it wasn't like I would protest.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I nodded and watched intently as he leaned over and kissed me. I felt something warm wrap around me and my eyes shot open.

…

Why was I on the couch again?

"Oh…_God Damnit!_" I moaned. It was all a dream… A very vivid, very…hot dream. I needed to get out of this town if I was going to start dreaming about giving my best friend blow jobs. I needed some separation.

I sat up, feeling a warm pressure against my waist. I glanced down. Oh…come on! I hadn't had a wet dream since I was like...well…never.

"Stanley?" mom called from the kitchen. "Are you alright?"

"Ah! Fine mom!" I replied, getting to my feet and running upstairs. I locked myself in the bathroom. I needed to take care of this quickly. I unzipped my pants and stroked myself roughly, remembering the dream and coming quickly into the toilet. I changed my pants.

I needed to distract myself. I couldn't keep on like this. My driver test would be on Friday, my attention couldn't be diverted by thoughts like this.

I went downstairs, opening a phone book and looking up Cotswald. I think I had an idea. I could earn Kyle his money back so he could stop stressing over it, then he might fall for me…maybe. If he didn't, than at least we could feel better about his debt.

The phone rang on the other line and I waited patiently. A man's voice answered. "Hello, who's this?""

"Ah…my name's Stan. I'm a friend of Rebecca's from school…can I talk to her?"

I heard him yelling for her on the other side of the line. The phone was passed over. "Hello?" she said curiously. I'd bet she didn't get calls very often.

"Hey, it's Stan…from school?" I said. She didn't reply, so I guessed that she didn't remember the name. "I'm Kyle's friend."

"Oh, the one with that red poofball hat?"

"Exactly."

"Oh."

"Yeah…" I said awkwardly. I wasn't sure how I wanted to word this. "Hey, I'm getting my liscense in a week. I was wondering if you wanted to come somewhere-"

"I don't wanna date you," she said firmly. "I'm sorry, but I'm not into the whole dating thing now…"

"I know!" I said defensively. "I was planning on traveling and helping Kyle get out of debt so he can pay for like…insurance and a car and shit…"

"You're asking if I want to help you help him?" she clarified.

"Yes…" I confirmed. "I've got an idea, but I'll want some company along the way. I figured that since you two were so close that maybe you'd want to come along too…" I said hopefully.

"Of course…" she said.

"Well, I'll be leaving next weekend. Pack what you'll need for three or so days. It shouldn't take long… I'll tell you the plan tomorrow at school," I promised. I knew my parents would never agree to let me go, but I'd just have to make sure they didn't know. I'd tell them I was spending the night at some friend's house.

I wanted to get to know her better. If Kyle ended up going out with her, I wanted to be able to approve. And, what was the harm in two people who cared about him more than anyone going to help him out?

Plus…he didn't have to know…

* * *

><p><em>Wow. So…<em>_**that's**__why it's rated M. Not for da chilluns. _

_I have to admit, I got a little turned on just __**writing **__it…_

_Anyway~ I'll be doing the next few chapters in Kyle's pov…so it will be more serious and less fluff. So, hope this is enough to hold us off for awhile._

_Review plz XD_

Top of Form


	25. Immortality

_Okay, so first day of summer and I didn't sleep at all last night. I watched like four horror films before bed and I couldn't even turn off the light to go upstairs…I haven't been this messed up since middle school. _

_Anyway, allow me to explain a little bit. _

_Stan is very confused right now because he knows he wants Kyle, but he doesn't know if he's in love or what Kyle thinks of him. Kyle is just completely oblivious right now and really __**isn't**__ attracted to Stan yet. He hasn't even noticed anything different besides Stan acting weird around him. Kyle would be much quicker to come to terms with his emotions if he had them. He just hasn't had any yet, but Stan will fix that guys…be patient._

_Now that that's out of the way…_

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

"Ey! Fat fuck!" I shouted across the hallway. Cartman immediately understood who was calling him and he turned around. I walked over and met him halfway, hands shoved roughly in my pockets. I could tell this was going to be painful for my pride. I gulped, "I…never thanked you."

He grinned like an eel and waited for me to continue.

I took another dry swallow. While I _was_ quite impressed by his actions, I would rather drink the liquid out a glow-stick and die before admitting that to his face. I winced, "Thanks for…um…using a condom…" I muttered.

"Ah, what?" he said as if he hadn't heard me the first time.

"I'm _not_ repeating myself," I said coldly. "And you can stop telling people I've got AIDS…" I muttered, realizing how _easily_ this conversation could be misinterpreted by some overhearing.

"But, you do. I'm just warning them all," he said innocently.

I sighed. I was at an impasse. If I told him that I indeed didn't have AIDS and the money he'd given to Rebecca had been used to cure her and _not_ because she was a prostitute, then he wouldn't pay me anything for the plans that he'd stolen. He'd probably say I didn't need the money anyway and it would be pulling teeth to get him to do _anything_ to help me.

But, if I didn't tell him, everyone in school would think I had AIDS. Which…shouldn't matter, but somehow it still bothered me.

"Alright…do what you want," I said calmly. He knew it was bothering me, so my giving him permission wasn't going to deter him or anything. If anything, he'd just justify himself using my permission.

He frowned at my response, but shrugged it off. "Well…I guess that's no fun," he said. I _highly_ doubted that would stop him from spreading the word though…

"Also," I continued. "How do you intend to compensate for the money you lost me?"

He shrugged, "I've got something planned. I'll be sure to send you some tickets in the mail when the first showing is."

He waddled away; back to his locker and slamming it closed. I sighed and leaned against my own locker. I didn't even _want_ to know what he was doing. I had a feeling it would insult me somehow.

"Hey, Kyle…" a feminine voice said, dangerously close to my ear.

I turned in surprise to see bushy brown hair and a pair of cute brown eyes. They blinked in surprise and I laughed. "You sneak up behind me then get startled when I turn around?" I laughed.

She blushed and punched me on the arm. "You don't have to jump at me like that!" she dismissed.

I laughed.

"Hey, dude…" a deeper voice said behind her. I glanced back to see Stan had walked over with her. I didn't know that he knew her… This was weird.

"Hi…" I said, trying to keep the suspicious tone out of my voice. "What're you guys up to?" I said casually, propping my Spanish book in the back of my locker and shutting it forcefully.

Stan put a hand on her shoulder and leaned over to whisper something in her ear. She glanced at him and nodded in agreement. I stared at them, something twisting in my stomach. _Why_ did this make me so angry?

Stan _knew_ that I kinda liked Rebecca, so how could he just be moving in on her like this, right in front of me? Maybe I was jumping to conclusions… Stan wouldn't do something like that…

And, somehow I didn't really care as much if he did. At least, I wouldn't care if it wasn't _him_. Stan was my best friend. Rebecca was a girl who liked me. I don't know if I liked her back, but somehow I wouldn't care if like…Clyde or someone made a move on her. I would be happy if she just left love alone completely. I would be happy just to see her move on.

I just didn't want Stan fucking things up with Wendy again. I hated it when they broke up. It always put him in such a slum that he just wasn't himself…

Rebecca nodded and they were still talking in hushed tones. She turned and walked away from us, clutching her text books tightly. I watched her leave, feeling extremely confused. Why would she come over here just to walk away?

"Hey…" Stan said carefully.

"What's going on with you two?"I demanded once I was sure she was gone.

He glanced back to where she'd just been. "Oh, Rebecca? Nothing, I'm just trying to get to know her." He turned to me and smiled as best as he could manage. "If you're thinking about going out with her, then I want to be able to give you two my blessing…"

I stared at him. "Stan…you're my friend, not my mother," I reminded him. "Even if you _don't_ approve, I'll do what I want."

He frowned, "Yeah, I know. I'm not trying to control you," he said defensively. "I just want to get to know her…okay? It's innocent."

I crossed my arms over my chest. The class bell rang, but we both ignored it. It wouldn't be the first time we'd been late for class. "I don't try to encroach on your relationship with Wendy…" I said.

He leaned against the lockers next to me. "I know…I'm just concerned. She hasn't exactly made your relationship _easy_ and I don't want you to have to go through the same heartbreak as I do…"

I stared at him. _That's_ what this was about?

He was staring at anything but me. "It's just that _I've_ been suggesting that you get a girlfriend, but I don't want her to hurt you. Last time you tried with her she didn't exactly fall into your arms."

"Well…she'd definitely be willing to by now," I reminded him. "Rebecca likes me now. She's all over me…practically all the time."

His expression darkened and became more strained. He forced a smile through reddened cheeks. "Yeah…and I'm…_happy_ that it's finally working out…" he ground out.

Was he alright? Would it really _bother_ him if I decided to ask Rebecca out? He kept suggesting I get into the dating scene. God, he was being confusing! I frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, dude. I've got a lot going on right now. Between school, all this drama, extracurricular activities, and trying to get my debt under control, I don't really have time for dating anyway."

He smiled sadly. "But if you _did_…?"

I sighed. That was a question I didn't have the answer to. How was I supposed to know what I wanted? I was fifteen for fuck's sake! (Almost sixteen, but still!). "Do I really have to answer that?" I sighed.

He just stared at me, his blue gaze piercing.

"I…I know that I don't _love_ her. I like her well enough. She's smart and funny and very self-assured. But, we don't really have any history. Why do you care so much, anyway?" I demanded.

He stood from the side of the lockers. "I'm your friend, that's why," he said dismissively. "Let's get to class…"

…

We went back to avoiding each other for the remainder of the week. He was stressed out about his driving course, and I didn't feel like dealing with his pissy attitudes. Apparently he'd gotten his answer he wanted about Rebecca and he'd decided he could leave me alone after that.

I didn't really care though. I hung out with Kenny for the rest of the week. Kenny was good conversation. He listened well and didn't mind picking fun at you because it was all in good humor.

We were walking home from school on Friday. Stan had his final driving test for his license today. It was getting warmer, so Kenny had taken down his mouth cover and just wore his hood.

"Are you going to see the show on Monday?" Kenny asked.

I glanced at him, "What show?"

"Cartman's Broadway musical…"

I stopped completely and looked at him. "What? Cartman's putting on a musical?"

"Yeah…he's been working on it since last week… The book of Jew…he didn't tell you?"

"That little fuck…" I muttered. He was going to make some Broadway musical about _my_ life wasn't he? There was _no_ way I'd allow this to happen. "Where is he?"

Kenny shrugged. "I 'unno…probably working on it. He's bought us plane tickets, but I don't feel like going. You want mine? Give it to someone else…" he said, reaching into his pocket and passing me a plane ticket.

I didn't want it. I just stood there and stared at it. Was this a fucking _joke_? Why couldn't he give it a rest? It seemed like everything that went wrong in my life stemmed off some shit that goes down because of the little shitlings that live in this Godforsaken town.

I should just move. I _really_ should.

I stuffed the ticket in my pocket and took out my cell phone. I sent a text to Cartman, "**Where are you?**" and I put it away.

"What are you going to do?" Kenny wondered.

"I'm going to kill him…" I growled honestly.

He laughed nervously, "Ahem…maybe you should try to rationalize…" he suggested. But I didn't _want_ to rationalize. I wanted to kill him. I stood there, considering different ways I could do it. Different methods of torture I'd use before finishing it.

Kenny watched as my grin slowly became more and more like a shark baring its teeth. "Ah… Maybe it won't be so bad," he began. "I mean he's insulted you so many times that he can't get much worse right?"

I resumed walking, "No, Kenny. That's completely inaccurate. Cartman can _always_ outdo himself. It's his talent and its how he keeps us hating him," I snapped.

"Kyle, we've always just put up with it. We can't get rid of him, alright?" he pleaded. I was glad that he was taking me seriously. Stan never did when I talked about killing Cartman. But, it's what I _wanted_ so _badly_.

"Just submitting to it, Kenny?" I said coldly. "Just putting up with him? I'm sick of it. I want him out of my life."

"What choice do you have Kyle. If you kill someone, you'll go to hell. Trust me…" he said darkly.

"I've already considered that. I still think it would be worth it…"

He grabbed my arm and turned me around. "Don't do it! I'm _telling_ you right now! If you kill Cartman, you'll go to hell and you'll have to listen to all the drama shit that Satan does with Sadam Hussein. I thought I had the whole situation kinked out for him, but he just keeps going back to his old ways and you shouldn't have to put up with it! It's…well…it's _hell_!"

I stared at him. "Kenny…" I said hesitantly. "Are you alright? You're not making sense…"

He took a deep breath. "If I told you, you'd never listen. I've tried telling you before…"

"Is this that weird thing you keep trying to convince us all. Like…you can't die or something?" I said, growing impatient. Kenny pulled this story out his pocket _all the time,_ and I was getting sick of hearing about it.

He just shook his head. "Next time I die, just talk to Stan…hopefully you'll believe _him_…" he muttered dejectedly.

I hated seeing him like this. He did it often lately. I don't know why this got to him so much…I think he'd actually convinced himself that he'd come back to life if he died. I wanted to say something, but I'd tried so many times. There was no changing his mind. I wished he could see a therapist, but I wasn't going to pay for him to do so.

"Hey, Kenny…maybe you should come over my house for awhile…" I offered. I _was_ in advanced placement psychology class. Maybe I could figure out what was wrong with him…

"Kyle, I don't want to be psychoanalyzed. There's nothing wrong with my brain," he insisted. "There's just something wrong with my soul. It won't die."

I sighed and just waved him off as we passed his house. He would understand when he was ready. I guess _all_ teenagers do sort of feel immortal sometimes. Even me. I can't imagine the future or growing up…I used to picture it. I thought I would be an astronaut, and then I'd planned on becoming president. I just didn't know anymore. I didn't know _anything_…

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><p><em>I've been so lazy today that I'm lucky this even got written at all. <em>

_Sorry, not much fluff._

_Review plz~_


	26. Shit  Just shit

_I'm sorry for the wait…It's summer so I've actually been out doing stuff so I didn't have an hour to sit and write a chapter (usually takes an hour or two…) _

_News in my life that nobody but me cares about XD__:_

_-My hair is now short: I donated ten inches that I didn't really have to locks of love_

_-I joined a Cosplay Group: I'm playing America from Hetalia since I fit it better than…anyone…seriously (I got glasses, blonde hair, eat anything, and even a natural Nantucket). I'll put a link to our work when we've put some stuff up . (Also thinkin I might write a hetalia story…idk yet)_

_-I got an editor for the book I wrote, so I'll be correcting my grammar mistakes over the summer. This doesn't affect anyone, but it means my updates might come a bit slower…not to bad though, at least once a week still _

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

I finished my afterschool chores and collapsed on my bed. I didn't feel like moving; today had been a long enough day.

Thank God it was Friday; I don't think I could take any more hype about Cartman's fucking Broadway musical. All the teachers were congratulating him as if he'd won the Pulitzer fucking Prize…

I stared at the four tickets I'd been handed for it. It turned out that Kenny wasn't the only one who didn't want to go. And, for some reason, my friends who didn't want _their_ tickets figured that _I'd_ want them…why? I have no idea…

I knew I had to go. I had to make sure that Cartman didn't overdo the insult. I wanted to know if Stan was coming…it wouldn't be so bad if _he_ was there…for, um…moral support I guess…

I pushed myself up off my bed and reached for my backpack, unzipping the front pouch. I pulled my phone out and dialed his number. He'd sometimes put his phone on silent during school, so I hoped he'd remembered to put sound back on. I threw myself back into my bedspread and let myself sink into the covers. The phone rang a few times on the other line and I was almost afraid that I'd be sent to voicemail.

"Hey?" Stan's voice said on the other line. "Kyle?"

My expression lightened, I could feel the pressure of the day melt off a bit. "Hey," I said casually. "You goin' to see Cartman's musical on Broadway this weekend?" I said directly.

"He's puttin' on a musical?" he said in shock. "Damn…he works fast!"

I laughed, "Dude! You haven't heard about it? The office broadcast it over the intercom this morning! He's passing out tickets to everyone in school…"

"I haven't spoken to anyone at school this week…I didn't hear anything over the intercom either…you _know_ I don't listen to that shit!" There was a giggle somewhere in the background on the other side of the line.

"Is Wendy there with you?" I wondered, mind lolling off in thoughts of what they might be doing. I felt a little nauseous for some reason. It couldn't be because of dirty thoughts; I went to sleep watching porn on my ipod before… Maybe the turkey that had been in my lunch had gone bad…

"Ah, actually…" he said awkwardly. "Rebecca's here…"

"Hi Kyle!" Rebecca's voice said peppily on the other line.

My hand spazzed and I threw the phone forcefully through my window. The glass shattered. "Aw…shit…" I muttered. Mom was going to be _pissed_…

I dropped the curtain down over the mess to hide it for at least tonight…maybe I could get on a plane to Broadway before she'd notice. I guess I had a reason to go now…

But, I had a bigger issue right now than just a broken window and cell phone. My best friend was with the girl I was supposed to be courting. This was _beyond_ confusing for me.

It wasn't that I was _angry_ at him…I was…jealous. All the thoughts I had of him and Wendy doing things instantly morphed into him and Rebecca doing things. And _that_ actually made me run to the bathroom before I got sick.

I wretched over the sink for a few minutes until my stomach stopped contracting. I still felt dizzy and my stomach still felt extremely unsettled. I wanted to sit down, but if I moved, I might get sick again, so I just stood and clutched to the sides of the sink gingerly.

Why was he doing this to me? I didn't mind him being with Wendy, but why Rebecca?

I should be…happy for him…right? I should…cheer them on. I didn't want to make Rebecca wait for me, and I wanted more than _anything_ for Stan to be happy. But…why did it have to be _her_?

I'd adjusted to him being with Wendy. I was used to that, but now…I just felt…betrayed. Of all the girls Stan could've gotten, he had to choose the one who _liked __**me**_? Was it really that hard for him to just let me have this one? Who was the one being protective in this situation?

I'd devoted all my spare time to him, putting aside love and focusing only on friendship. Was he really _that_ afraid of change that he had to bar me off from it forever?

I brushed my teeth to get the taste out of my mouth and decided to walk to the airport.

…:::…

MARSH

I gripped the leather wrapping of the steering wheel a little tighter. "He…hung up," I muttered.

"He's mad," she stated. It wasn't a thought, it was a belief.

I shook my head numbly. "No, not mad. I think he's jealous. He thinks I'm trying to take you…"

"Well, it's not like I'm some uncharted territory that can just be conquested or something," she pointed out bitterly. "All you men are like that. I'm not an object. I've got a 4.7 GPA and I'm the president of the international club, the strategy club, the history debate team, and young business persons club. I've done more in my life already than any of those fucking jocks will before they're retired."

"Some pent up anger?" I said calmly.

"Fuckers."

I nodded. "I see…" I said, imagining some jock asked her for a fuck or something and she'd gotten pissed. I guess it was a step up from whoring herself out…a massive, _leap_ up. She was beginning to show signs of being the strong, independent type that I liked.

She propped her feet against the dashboard of my truck. I didn't mind. I asked her if she'd pass me a fry, and she held it out for me to bite while I drove. We'd stopped to buy food considering it was about nineteen hours to L.A.

"So…" she began conversationally. "Why exactly are you going to such lengths for Kyle? If we _do_ make this money, why wouldn't you just keep the money? It's…a _lot_ that you're planning to get…"

I smiled without realizing, picturing Kyle's expression when I gave him all the money he needed. "I…just want him to happy," I muttered.

She frowned, "You two are…really close, huh?"

I glanced over at her, watching her face then returning my vision to the road. "Yeah…? Why?"

She shook her head, saying nothing.

"Um… He talks about you a lot," I muttered. It seemed like something that she wanted to hear.

Her expression didn't change. She just stared out the windshield silently. I didn't know what I'd done wrong. Were all girls like this? Can they really pull multiple meanings out of every little thing…?

"What's wrong?" I said carefully.

"I'm _not_ upset," she replied. "I'm just…thinking."

I pulled the car over to the side of the highway, parking and putting on the safety brake. I turned to her, staring intensely. "I don't want that answer," I said calmly. I wasn't sure why this was such a big deal to me, but I had to know what this was about. Was Kyle saying something about me to her that I needed to know?

She just returned my gaze. "I don't know what you want from me."

"I want to know what you're thinking about."

She just laughed, "No, you probably _don't_ want to know…"

"Why not?"

She folded her arms over her chest huffily. "Because, I don't think you've realized this by yourself."

"What?" I demanded. "Is this about Kyle?"

"Yeah! I swear, if you know what I'm talking about, you'd better stop me from saying this!"

I gulped. I think I knew what she was getting at. How could she tell? "Is this…about…what I feel?"

She sat back in her seat and stared at me. "What? Um…no, I just thought that maybe Kyle had some kind of blackmail over you or something…"

"Well, why was that so embarrassing for _you_?"

She shook her head, "It wasn't, I just didn't want to put you on the spot, but I also didn't want to go through all this without knowing _why_… So…why? Do you have…feelings for me or something?"

"Not you…" I mumbled, not meaning for her to hear.

"Than who?" she demanded, apparently hearing despite.

I sighed and shucked a hand through my hair. I was exhausted. How nice would it be to just stop somewhere and take a break from driving? I'd known that I'd have to stop eventually; I couldn't just run nineteen hours directly after school…

"Who?" she persisted.

I sat back, relaxing into my seat. "Who do _you_ think?"

She broke our gaze and turned to look out the window. "I see. So, I'm your competition then. _That's_ why you brought me. I _knew_ I was useless to your cause. You just wanted to get rid of me…"

I tried to hold it in, but that was just…ridiculous! I cracked up, pressing my arms against the steering wheel for support. She glared at me. "Are you _crazy_?" I laughed.

"It's the only logical answer!" she said, thoroughly frustrated.

"Yeah…but, people…we're not _logical_," I reasoned. "I'm _not_ trying to get rid of you… You really must not know me well, and _that_'s why I asked you to come. If I'm going to have to give Kyle away to you…I want to make sure I know you."

She just stared at me silently. "You love him," she said calmly.

My brain blanched. Love?

"Here," she said, holding out her hand. She reached over and unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled me out of the car behind her. "Let's get away from this traffic…" she decided.

I stepped out onto damp grass that sank slightly beneath my feet. I locked the car doors and we walked out through a long field where wild cattle probably grazed. It didn't look like anyone's property, but the grass was short.

She seemed to know where she was going, so I just followed. We walked into a small, thin forest beside the highway. "My grandparents and their family own some land around here. It's why I've lived here for so long. We would've moved _ages_ ago if our roots weren't here," she explained.

"Kinda ironic that we stopped here then…" I muttered.

She shook her head. "Not really, I mean, they _do_ own a _lot_ of land…"

"Oh."

She stopped, standing near a rock where she tucked her skirt under her legs and sat carefully. I dropped down next to her. We looked out over her family's property. I could still see the car from here, which was comforting even if I couldn't do anything to protect it. We should probably make this quick so we wouldn't get towed.

"Why did we need to leave the car?" I wondered aloud.

"Cause, it was noisy and busy over there. I…want a minute to talk before we get too far on the road," she muttered. I nodded, understanding her point.

"So," she began hastily.

"So…"

"Um…since when?" she asked.

"Did I feel this way?" I finished for her. She nodded. "I don't know. I think it's always sort of been there, but I just noticed it last…Tuesday or Wednesday."

"And…I mean…how much is it?"

"Not sure what you mean?" I wondered. I _knew_ she was bad at the emotional affection sort of thing, she was just good at the physical aspects, but…_still_ she could word it better maybe?

"I mean, like…how much do you want him?"

"Ah," I said, understanding her question…unfortunately. "I…a lot, I think." I glanced at her. She was sitting on her hands and watching the truck. I didn't see any reason not to trust her. This _was_ America…she hadn't done anything wrong to me, so…innocent until proven guilty? I guess it was the same, trustable until proven distrustful.

She didn't speak. She had a thoughtful expression on, so I continued into the brisk evening silence. "I…have had a few urges. And…a pretty vivid dream."

She quirked an eyebrow, still not meeting my eyes, "Of what?" she wondered. "Was it…_sexual_?" she wondered.

"Ah…" _Why_ did she have to ask something like_ that_? "Um…sort of," I lied.

She shrugged. I guess she noticed my reserve on the subject and decided to leave it alone out of courtesy. "What…will you do if he _does_ choose me?" she wondered.

"I don't know anything right now. I don't even know what I'm supposed to do about the girlfriend that I _have_. But, I do know that I want him to be happy. So, if you can do that…you've got my blessing," I said, rising to my feet. I brushed off my pants and leaned over to offer her a hand. She took it and stood.

We began making our way back through the field to the car. I think I was warming up to this girl. She seemed pretty level. She wasn't a self-absorbed bitch like some of the girls at our school. I'll admit that maybe she tried to draw conclusions too quickly based on her own reasoning which could sometimes be inaccurate. But, it wasn't unbearable.

If…if Kyle wanted her than I would…allow it.

She stopped in her tracks suddenly and I looked up, stomach turning over. A sixteen-wheeler truck slid on a patch of black ice and rammed my truck into the railing on the edge of the highway. There was the sound of screeching breaks and glass and metal crumpling.

"Shit."

* * *

><p><em>I'm so sorry that it took me so long to get this done. I haven't <em>_**completely**__ lost interest in doing this, but I've just gained interest in other things as well. I think I just need some new episodes to get me motivated. (Maybe I shouldn't've shoved the whole series down my throat in two months) _


	27. Highway Concerts

_Okay, I've been lazy, I'll admit. I'm just at one of those standstill writers get to, even with the thing planned out, I've got no idea how to execute this next part. So, this chapter is just shit, I'm serious. _

_But, yea, there's a part in there where Stan sings, and the song is 'How he loves us' by John Mark McMillian. It's a good song. I heard it at my friend's church (she brought me even though I'm Jewish…) The song helped me get through my best friend's death from cancer…years ago._

_It's a religious song, so don't think it pertains to Kyle when he sings it._

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

You've gotta _love _American airports. The security checks, the massive crowds, unruly passengers, annoying-spoilt brats that kick the back of your seat, the old man that snores next to you, the little girl that sits and stares at you from the seat ahead of you, and, finally, the middle-aged woman who thinks you want to talk to her about your social lives.

"-But, that was in eighty-two. Bastard decided to go on a 'business trip' to Vegas and blow all Robert's college funds"

Well, I might as well be sociable. "That sounds familiar. My dad got a bit of a gambling problem on a Cheyenne reserve once and lost our house. But, in his defense, so did the rest of the town… It all ended okay though…somehow..."

She just smiled, not even scolding my language.

"Yeah, my town's pretty fucked up. I guess nothing like that ever happens in Denver then?" I wondered.

"I'm not _from_ Denver, just visiting. I'm _from_ New York. Why are you heading out that way?"

"Ah, my…friend…is putting on a play on Broadway," I answered. It didn't feel right to call Cartman a friend.

"Wow," she muttered. "You don't even live in York and you're better connected than _I_ am…" she said, jealousy painting her voice.

"Ah, not really," I muttered. Leaning forward so the little fuck sitting behind me wouldn't kick my head. "He's just…good at making a scene of himself. I'm surprised he's not really famous yet. He's such an attention whore…"

She laughed, "I'd like to meet the people who raise you with such a tongue," she commented.

I grinned. "You don't seem to mind."

"Ah, my brother's kids are the same way," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Your brother? Is that who you were visiting?" I pried. It was a long plane ride; I'd be bored if I didn't talk to someone. Playing my PSP could only be entertaining for so long.

"Yeah, he was a Corporal in the Marines. He's got two little boys and the prettiest daughter."

"Corporal Frank?" I wondered. What were the _odds_?"

"You know him?"

"He hates my guts…" I admitted.

"Hm…" she muttered. "It's just weird that you know him."

"Agreed," I said.

She stared ahead of her for a few minutes, thinking. It was _seriously_ ironic that we'd be sitting next to each other. "Well…I'm going to get some rest," she said abruptly. "Wake me up when we stop?"

"Sure," I muttered. She leaned back and put the complimentary eye-covers on. After a few minutes, she was snoring just like the old man next to me. I put in my headphones to drown them out.

But, music just brought back my own issues to me. Blocking out my surroundings just made me focus on Stan and Rebecca. What was going on between those two? I'd worked so hard to help Stan get with Wendy. How could he just throw out all those…lessons…

My eyes flashed open and I realized I was playing with my lip. Was _that_ still bothering me? I had thought I was okay with it… But, if both Stan _and_ Rebecca were planning on becoming…something then, where would that leave _me_?

I guess I wasn't jealous…or angry, just…lonely. It felt weird. I'd never needed anyone before, but if…both of the people that were closest to me just decided to pair off together, I didn't want to be the third leg.

And, what had ever happened to Wendy? I'd worked so hard to help Stan get her. I thought he loved her. I'd comforted him when she broke up with him. I'd stayed up late and held him at night; I'd even taught him how to give tongue. He...was pretty good already, but still.

And then there was me. What exactly did I _want_? I knew I didn't want to be the last one out, but if things were going to change, how did I want them to end up?

I brought my knees up into my chair and put my chin against them, hugging them to my chest. I had four hours ahead of me to think about it.

…:::…

MARSH

"Shit…"

"I'll call a tow truck…" Rebecca muttered, digging in her pocket for her cell phone. I realized, with horror, that mine was still in the car.

"Let's go see if the driver is alright," I suggested. We resumed walking, briskly now, while she talked into her phone to the police.

I rushed around the side of the truck to find the driver staggering out of the truck door. He almost fell over onto the pavement, but I caught him and helped him up. "Are you okay?" I said.

"What did I hit?"

"Ah…my truck. It's…it's okay," I sighed…struggling to remain calm. Why couldn't we just drive nineteen hours to L.A. without having at least two vehicles get destroyed in the process? Maybe we shouldn't have stopped…

The sound of screeching brakes inturupted me again. I turned, leaping off to the side as minivan slid on the same ice that the truck-driver had just missed. The front of the car crumpled in, smashing the truck driver against his own truck.

I winced, landing on the icy road with a sharp thud. "JESUS!" I cried. I had _just_ been standing there… We'd only been on the road for two hours!

The truck driver was crushed like a beetle, his blood spewed up the side of the truck and dribbling down ripped flesh on what was left of his corpse.

Rebecca came around the side of the wreckage to see what had happened, she screamed, dropping her cell phone so it cracked and rolled down the pavement. It landed in the stream of floodwater. Great…no way to call for help. Could this get _any_ worse?

I glanced to see if the driver of the minivan had survived. The front of the car was crushed and pinning her legs between the seat and the dashboard. Her head was cast down on the steering wheel. She was knocked out, but maybe still alive.

"We need to call an ambulance!" I yelled over the sound of traffic.

Rebecca was just staring at the truck driver, trembling. Had she never seen death before? I sighed. I'd seen it _way_ too many times…

I walked out into the highway, waving my arms to flag someone down; someone who would have a cell phone.

An old VW bus pulled over, narrowly swerving away from the patch of ice. A tall, lanky man stepped out of the driver seat. Behind him, a small _army_ of hippies tumbled down from the doors on the sides, carrying tambourines, guitars, a set of drums, a banjo, kazoos, and some other instrument I didn't recognize.

The driver had long brown hair tied back in a sweatband. He was wearing a tie-dye shirt and baggy brown leather pants. He walked over and shook my hand, completely ignoring the dead corpse, slowly draining blood into the storm drain…just feet away.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he said, smiling softly.

I stared at him. "Do you really not see all of _this_ you dumb shit!" I said in awe.

He turned lethargically to see the man pinned to the truck and he burst out in groveling tears. He fell to his knees, "How could you do this God?" he cried.

"Yeah, he's cruel isn't he?" I said dully, "Look, do you have a phone?"

"A what?"

"PHONE! DO YOU HAVE A PHONE?" I shouted. What the hell was wrong with him? How did he not see what was happening? This lady in the minivan could be dying. I bet she had children back home judging from her choice in vehicle.

"Ah, we don't have cell phones…" he said, his voice thick with a country accent.

I balled my fists together. Why had they even stopped then? I walked back out to the edge of the highway and resumed trying to flag down a car. They all passed, glancing at me and speeding up. "FUCKERS!" I shouted at the road.

A hand fell onto my shoulder. I turned. Rebecca was frowning, "They started singing…" she muttered.

I turned. I hadn't even been paying attention, but sure enough, the hippies were lamenting the dead carcass of the truck driver. "Ah, fucking morons…" I muttered. They sounded _horrible_…

She just rubbed her arm at her side, "I think it's kinda nice… I mean, if no one will stop, maybe we should pay some respects while we wait for the cops to get here…"

I nodded. She was right. That was pretty gruesome, but these hippies sounded…terrible. Their playing was good, but the singing…

I walked to the back of their van, searching the trunk. Sure enough they had an extra guitar. I slung it over my shoulder and took a seat on the back of my smashed truck. I played a few strings, testing the tuning. Already done…nice.

I strummed it quietly, drowned out by the others' music. Rebecca came over to me, sitting next to me on the truck. "He is jealous for me~… Loves like a hurricane~…I am a tree~" I sang deeply. Everyone else went silent and began crowding around me. I continued singing. I was so used to having an audience that I couldn't even worry about how horrible my voice must sound. "And I realize just how beautiful you are~… And how great your affections are for me~…"

Another guitar serenaded me quietly. "Oh, how he loves us so~…Oh…how he love us~ …How he love us so~…" And an Autoharp and a keyboard joined it to give the song a sad, country sound.

I repeated my original chorus and some drums picked up the beat. I sang, pouring out everything I had built up inside me.

I remembered all the horrible times I'd pulled through. I remembered the day Kyle had moved to San Francisco and I'd played guitar to bring him back. I remembered the day that Kenny had died of cancer. I remembered when my parents had divorced and we'd moved. I remembered them almost killing me and Kyle and Kenny coming to save me. I had been through so many things…so much shit…but, it had all worked out somehow and here I was, playing gospel music on the side of the highway with a band of hippies, over the dead carcass of a probably drunkard truck driver. Somehow all the hardship made this song mean more…

The music grew louder until cars began slowing down on the highway to stop and watch us. I tapped my foot with the drums, letting my head bob with the music. I sang louder, letting the small group of people that had gathered sing along. People started getting out of their cars and joining in.

"Yeah how he loves us~! Oh how he loves us… woah how he loves us! Oh how he loves~!"

But, the song died down back to just two guitars and they let me solo again. I was almost crying by this point… "So…we are his portion and he is our prize…drawn to redemption by the grace in his eyes… if grace…is an ocean, we're all sinkin~" I strummed, leaning over the guitar. I swallowed, "…So, heaven meets earth like a sloppy, wet kiss…and my…heart turns violently inside of my chest."

I bashed my hand through the strings, voice growing back to its earlier force. "I don't have time to maintain these regrets~ When I think about…the way~ that he loves us~!"

The highway was blocked by this point and the cars were empty. The street was flooded with people, joined hands, and singing. Police sirens were blaring somewhere in the distance, but they couldn't break through the jam.

I knew they could find a way to get over here…eventually, right now; I just wanted to sing this out. We repeated the main melody twice, as loud as we could. I just tapped my foot quietly, enjoying the music these people could play. They might be lacking in brain cells, but playing skills…they should get paid for this…

There was another quick decrescendo. I stopped singing, ceasing my playing. The crowd continued singing as if we were in church or something. The mass of people was swaying like a small ocean. "Well I think about you…the days it all dies and you meet me…between my breaking… I know that I- still love you, God…despite the agony." I moaned, voice cracking. I was in tears now. Realizing just how often things tend to fall apart…this song should really be sung more often… I looked out over the crowd of people, "These people…they want…to tell me you're cruel… But if Chef could still sing, he'd say it's not true, cause...you're…"

My voice cracked too much and I couldn't sing. I dropped the guitar and wiped my eyes. How was all this stuff still bothering me so much? I thought enough time had passed… I guess it's easy to bury things …but even easier to dig them back up…

I sniffled, not even hearing the crowd cheering. Curse rush hour traffic…

A hand fell onto my shoulder. "I got her out of the car; she has bad fractures of both Tibia and some bad bruising. There was a first aid kit in the back of the truck, so I realigned the bones and splinted it, but she'll need proper casting," Rebecca said calmly.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to force all the unwanted puffiness and blurring out. "How did you do that?" I said in awe. I was still feeling pretty emotional because of the singing…

"I wanted to be a doctor when I was younger. I still remember a lot of the first aid stuff I learned…

"Amazing…" I muttered, glancing over at the woman. She was leaned against the side of her car, protected from non-existant traffic. Her legs were wrapped in gauze and had wooden steaks peaking out of the wrapping.

I lifted myself off the bed of the truck. The crowd of people was still gathered and clapping. I ignored them and walked over to the woman. "Why is she unconscious?" I asked.

"She hit her head against the steering wheel and was knocked out, but there isn't any bruising, so we're fine… At least until paramedics get here…"

...:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

I was officially bored. I beat my head against the back of the seat to the rhythm of the kid's kicking. It was sort of entertaining for awhile until he kicked the side of my head.

I turned around, kneeling in my seat backwards. "Look twerp-!" I shouted. His father was staring out the window ignoring him and me completely. '_…Bad parenting…'_ my brain growled.

"Don't get mad at _me,_" he said, cat like grin spreading on his chubby face. "Your rhythm was completely off. I wouldn't've kicked you if your head didn't come back at the wrong time. Seriously, you've got rhythm of a jew!"

"I _AM_ Jewish!" I shouted.

"Shhhhhh!" three people snapped around the cabin.

I turned back around, growling to myself. "Whad'you want?" I demanded the little blonde girl in front of me who was still staring.

She turned around. I folded my arms over my chest. Maybe I could take a nap. I glanced over at the lady I'd been talking to earlier. She was out cold. I was _sooooo_ bored…

The cabin television's volume rang up louder. "Oh my God! I know him!" a female voice cried from across the space. I glanced over to see Wendy standing up and pointing at the screen. She was going to see Cartman's play? What?

I turned to the news. If _she_ knew whoever was on it, then I probably did too.

It was…

Stan…

And he was…

Singing?

What?

The reporter had slicked brown hair and was standing in front of a three-car pileup…including Stan's new truck… My stomach plummeted. Why was Stan singing? And when had he crashed? Was anyone hurt?

News reporter, Rusty Balls, began speaking into his microphone. "Well Tom, it seems that the truck was stopped on the side of the highway and there were no passengers inside when the sixteen-wheeler slid on ice and crashed into it. The woman in the minivan crashed into the sixteen-wheeler as the driver was coming out and crushed him to his truck. The truck driver is dead and the minivan driver has two broken legs and a small concussion…according to a self-proclaimed nurse on the scene. Could you tell us more?" he said, tipping his microphone out of the shot until it turned so I could see Rebecca standing next to him.

She took the microphone. "Well, I realigned and splinted her legs until the paramedics get here to cast it. She doesn't have any major bruising on the head, but she's out cold so I'm guessing it's a minor concussion…"

"Amazing, Tom! She only looks like…fifteen!" he said to the camera. He turned back to her. "And, what can you tell us about the boy singing?"

"Oh, that's Stan. The people who stopped in that Wagon brought instruments…he couldn't stand their singing, so he took over," she said, smiling vaguely.

"He's very good," the reporter commented. "Let's get some video of it…"

The camera man pushed through the crowd of singing people until the image focused on Stan's face. I sat forward, propping my legs against the seat.

I was immediately sucked in. It was almost creepy how he could make me feel like he was singing directly to _me_ even though I was hundreds of miles away, heading in the opposite direction. I had the feeling he was having that affect on everyone in the cabin…all waking eyes were locked on the screen. The kid behind me had even stopped kicking my seat. It was a very religious and deep song. I was surprised he knew it…

I watched his face as he sung. His eyes were welling up. I wanted to be there…I wanted to sing with him…put my arm over his shoulder…

"I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about… the way…" I sung quietly. I knew a few people had started singing too. I raised my voice. "He loves us! Oh how he loves us!" I sang, and others began joining it until the music died down.

I watched Stan again. What was he doing? I wanted to know why he was there…

He sang the last refrain with tears streaming down his face. It broke my heart from miles away. He mentioned Chef and I wanted to just bury myself in my seat. We needed some of our childhood back. We needed those carefree days building snow igloos and swimming in the neighborhood pool, blowing things up in the summer and eating KFC.

I think we all miss that. We miss not having to care… I know I would rather go back to the way things were before money mattered, before I'd lost so many friends and family members. I wanted friendship to be all that mattered again. I didn't want a girlfriend. I didn't want Stan to have a girlfriend. I want it to just be us again…

I took a shaky swallow and leaned back even further.

The music had stopped completely on the news. Rebecca was talking to Stan and the screen wandered over to the band of hippies in the VW.

Someone tapped on my shoulder. I turned. Wendy was leaning over the sleeping old man next to me. "Can I talk to you?" she muttered.

"Sure…"

* * *

><p><em>Whoa~! Cliffhanger!<em>

_No, not really… I don't know why it took me so long to do this or why it's so shitty. I hate writing emotional stuff. It's way too rambly...at least it's kinda long. _

_I've been so lazy this past week…_

_So yep. There's that. _

_Review._


	28. Goddamn Snakes on Goddamn Planes

_SURPRISE! _

_I wrote another chapter…_

_Happy Canada day~_

_I got 5 reviews on my last chapter which made me kinda happy. It's a lot easier to write when I know people are gonna want to read it. So, if you like the story and want it to go faster…review._

_Plus, I felt kinda bad. I mean, the show's not on again till October…if anything I should keep going to keep everyone interested. _

_Also, my friend is going to collab with me on my hetalia story so I can get the history right. I'm not going to update that one until I can meet with her._

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

I stood up and scooted past the sleeping man next to me. Wendy waited at the end of the aisle until I had gotten free. I followed her back to her seat. She was alone in her aisle…lucky…

"What's wrong?" I said as I lowered myself into the blue-patterned seat.

She propped her head in her hand and stared out the window. "Do you know why Stan and Rebecca are together?" she wondered.

I let my head fall back against the headrest. "Well…that," I began. I didn't have much to say on the matter. "I…don't know _why_, but I trust them."

She turned and looked at me. "Kyle, aren't you and Rebecca…like…"

"Together?" I finished for her. She nodded. "Kinda, I guess."

"So then…what are they doing…?" she said to herself.

I moistened my lips. "I don't know… But, I think we should trust them."

She sighed. "Kyle, Stan's been kinda…weird for awhile now."

"What'd'you mean?"

She sat up again and put her feet on the chair in front of her. "Well, for the longest time he really _couldn't _even get within two inches of kissing me. Then, out of nowhere, he's just the master? I think Rebecca was giving him lessons…"

I stared at her. We can't forget how perceptive she is… She'd realized he'd gotten lessons, but really, he hadn't needed them. He was pretty good in the first place…at least, _I_ thought so.

"If he did, would it really bother you? I mean, it's not like he was your first kiss or anything."

"Well, she's got herpes, doesn't she?"

It should've been an insult, but I found it funny. "Naw, she just had trick, syphilis, gonorrhea, and AIDS…"

"AIDS!" Wendy cried in horror…a bit too loud. Several people turned to see what the commotion was, but most people didn't give a damn.

I put a hand on her shoulder, laughing. "Calm down Wendy. She'd all cured now. And besides, she _never_ touched Stan."

"How do you know?"

"Because I trust them," I said. Why wasn't that obvious to her yet? "Don't you?" I said calmly.

She huffed. "It doesn't matter. I…don't know if I love him anymore."

I blinked. "What?"

"Stan…I just…don't know anymore. He doesn't seem to think about me anymore. Even when we're together, he just isn't there."

"I'm _sure_ you're just overreacting…" I assured her. "Stan loves you. He always loves you…" Hearing myself say this out loud only ground the fact deeper into my brain and…it made me feel ill somehow. Maybe I was getting some air sickness. But, planes had never made me sick before…

"He has a funny way of showing it…" she muttered.

"What did he do?"

"It's not that he _did_ anything…it's that he isn't _doing_ anything. All he ever does is kiss me…occasionally. It feels like he doesn't _want _me at all!"

The wires connected in my brain and it all made sense. "Wait! You want to- with _Stan_?" I said, giddy. I'd always liked _thinking_ about sex. I mean, come on! I _was_ a guy. (It was just the concept actually _doing_ it that terrified me). That didn't mean I couldn't enjoy thinking about it…

But, if Stan was about to get some… I started imagining what it would look like. Then I realized that I was putting Stan in some sort of mental porno. I laughed behind my hand, the type of snorting laughter that gives you hiccups after a minute or two.

She punched me in the arm…several times before I calmed down. "_No_! I…just want him to want to…get it?"

"No, no, I get it!" I assured her. "You want get to reject him. It's only natural to want that."

"It's not that I want to turn him down, but it just feels like he isn't attracted to me in that way at _all_…" she whined. I glanced at her, all the humor of the conversation faded off immediately.

This must've been building for a long time if she felt the need to tell _me_ of all people. I could see why this sort of thing would bother her. Being in a relationship where you feel…un_wanted_ is just…hell I guess. Not that I would really know much about it, but I could imagine it would suck.

"Have you talked to _him_ about it?" I said. There wasn't much I _could_ say…

"How would you suggest I do _that_?" she demanded sarcastically.

"Point taken-"

"OH MY GOD!" someone shrieked behind us.

I stood in my seat and turned. A woman was screaming and flailing in her seat. I couldn't tell what was happening from this distance. More people got caught up in the panic.

"What's happening?" Wendy said, standing and turning as well.

A rope was slung across the cabin and landed over my shoulder. I jolted back. It was…moving!

"Oh my God!" Wendy cried.

I stood still and gently leaned over so the snake fell off my shoulder and onto the floor. It slithered away. I looked up again to see more people panicking. Snakes were hanging from the luggage lockers above people's heads.

I glanced down at the floor. "Wendy?" I said, keeping my voice as even as possible. "The snakes with diamond heads are poisonous…right?" I confirmed.

"Y-yes?"

"God. Damn. It."

…:::…

MARSH

Police finally broke the crowd up and brought in an Ambulance for the woman in the van. Rebecca and I sat in the back of a Police car as we were driven to the station to deal with the paperwork and things.

I couldn't rent a car since I was under eighteen. "Looks like we're…kinda stranded," I said, walking out of the officer's office. Rebecca looked like she didn't need the news broken to her.

"I'm _not_ calling my dad for help. He'd kill me if he found out that we left in the first place.

"Well, with that little interview you gave on the news, I'm thinking he already knows," I reminded her.

"Yea…I guess he does, but I want to put off seeing him for as long as possible now."

"Understandable," I muttered. I wasn't too worried about talking to _my_ parents about this. They were pretty much used to getting these sorts of stories about my activities. Running away to go to L.A. was nothing new for them.

"I'll talk to the officers…" she said, pushing herself up out of her seat. "I can probably get them to take us to an apartment or something. We'll figure something out in the morning."

"Yeah…it's been a long day," I agreed.

She walked into the office I'd just exited. I sighed and put my head in between my palms. It would have been _convenient_ if we'd been wrecked in a city. Instead, we were stranded in some backwater town with no taxi or bus services. The police could drive us, but only so far.

I stared up at the bulletin board of missing children and pets. It had never really occurred to me, but why do we put missing _pets_ on the same boards as missing _people_? Does no body see that as…wrong?

Rebecca came out, glaring at the wall. "They're too _busy_ to drive us to a city."

"In a backwater town like this?" I said skeptically.

"My point exactly," she ground out.

"Well, what are we going to do?"

She sighed. "I'm going to hate myself forever, aren't I…" she muttered, turning around and walking back into the office.

I stood, wanting to question what she was doing, until I realized…what she was doing. "Oh…Jesus!" I groaned. I plugged my ears before I could start _hearing_ what was going on in there. "What is wrong with our legal system…?" I muttered cynically.

I stood up. I needed to talk to someone _sane_…

I walked over to the payphone. I'd used up most of our food money paying to have my truck towed. It would be taken to a junkyard. It was _beyond_ repair…

I put a quarter into the phone, dialing Kyle's cell. It rang two times…three… I counted to keep my mind distracted. He picked up on the fourth ring.

"H-hey…um…hello?" he said, voice cracking on the other line.

"Kyle? Hey…are you heading to Cartmans…thing at like, New York or whatever?" I said casually.

Someone screamed on the other line and I had to hold the receiver away from my ear for a minute. "Yeah, I'm on the plan right now," he said. His voice sounded strained.

"What the hell's going on over there?"

"Get it off!" someone screamed on the other line.

"Ah, there are snakes…everywhere." Kyle said. His voice was waaaay too calm.

"SNAKES! HOLY FUCK!" I cried. Images of an anaconda slowly lowering its gullet over Kyle's entire body flooded my mind. His legs kicking wildly as the fangs dug into his skin to help push him into the creature. "Kyle? Get out of there!"

"No, it's fine…we should all just be calm…but everyone's freaking out and nobody's doing anything…"

"GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE DAMMIT!"

"Stan, stop screaming into the phone…" Kyle said softly. "There's enough screaming here…" And he wasn't kidding. His voice was almost entirely drown out by the sound of high pitch and low pitch screaming and shouted curses and hissing.

What if Kyle was bitten? They were up in the air…he wouldn't have access to any medical care… Kyle might die… Oh God…life without Kyle…

I almost fainted.

Pull yourself together, Stan! Someone must be in the cockpit telling people on the ground about their situation… But, what if the snakes made it _into_ the cockpit and bit the pilot! What if they crashed?

"Kyle…" I groaned. "Don't you dare die…"

He laughed. "Its okay, Stan. As long as I don't do anything to piss them off, they'll have no reason to bite me, right?" he reasoned. "So, I'm just going to sit and hope everyone calms down…"

"Are you crazy? What if someone throws one at you and that pisses it off? It'll bite you!"

"Well, there's nothing I can really do is there?" he said calmly. "If I remain calm, I stand a better chance."

"You're going to get yourself killed…" I said miserably. I hate snakes sooo much…

"Look, Stan do you have your cell phone? I'll call you when I get to New York."

"No I don't have my phone! You're going to die and I'm not even going to be able to _talk_ to you!"

"Calm down. Here, I'll put a blanket over me and Wendy. We'll be perfectly safe until whoever owns these fucking snakes cleans them up. I'm sure it's just some circus freak or something and they got free."

"Wendy's there too!"

"Yea, do you wanna talk to her?" he said calmly. "Here, you're on speaker."

"Stan?" Wendy's voice said on the other line. It sounded like she was crying. "Oh my God, Stan…I'm scared."

"You _should_ be! I swear you guys can't die on me!"

"We're not gonna die…" Kyle insisted.

"Would you _panic_ please?"

"I'm sorry for trying to keep everyone calm!" he replied hotly. Well, I'd officially pushed him to his anger limit. "I mean, Jesus Stan! Everyone's panicking! I don't think we need any more hysteria!"

"Kyle…please…you can't die on me…" I said, defeated. "Just…protect yourself…"

"Look, call my cell in two hours. I'll pick up when we've landed," he said calmly and hung up.

I put in another quarter. I hadn't even used my full two minutes. The phone rang again for a few minutes, but it just went to voicemail.

Okay, now I was frantic. Kyle was going to…die! And, he wouldn't even pick up the phone!

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

"God! I wish he'd stop calling…" I muttered.

"He's really that worried about you…" Wendy muttered.

I'd pulled the dark grey, complimentary blanket over the both of us. Only one or two snakes had actually hit the fortress. But, it was working well enough. The screaming outside was beginning to die down and someone had said something over the intercom, but we'd sort of just ignored it.

I thought of something and began laughing. Wendy shot me a quizzical look. "Ah, it's nothing just… Stan should be really jealous right now. I'm under the covers with his girlfriend."

"How can you be so smart and so…dumb at the same time?" Wendy said bored.

"Hey, that was funny!"

"Kinda," she said shortly.

There was a tense silence…well, _we_ were silent. I glanced at her. She turned away from me, raising a hand to her face. "Are-…are you crying?" I said carefully.

"No!"

"Wendy…?" I put a hand on her shoulder and took her chin, turning her face to see it. Her eyes were glistening. She was trying _not_ to cry. "What's wrong?" I demanded.

She bit her lip. "It's nothing…"

"That's obviously not true…"

She broke. "Stan sure seemed worried about _you_, didn't he?" she said accusingly.

I stared at her. "Well…I'm sure he _was_."

Her head feel back against the seat. "I'm breaking up with him. This tears it…"

"What!" I cried. "Wendy, don't do that! It would break his heart!"

"Obviously not…" she spat. "He doesn't love me anymore…"

I had nothing to say. I was pretty sure Stan _did_ love her still, but it wasn't like I could know. I didn't want to promise her something I didn't know. I'd have to let Stan talk this one out. I mean, it's not like I can sense these things. I was _really_ getting sick of all the drama in my life lately. _I blame you Stan…why you give me so much drama?_

…:::…

MARSH

"All done…" Rebecca said, wiping her mouth as she stepped out of the office. I was laying on the floor next to the phone, trying not to feel like snakes were slithering in my clothes, trying not to imagine Kyle being bitten…

"He's gonna die…" I moaned.

Rebecca crouched down next to where I was laying. "Hey, they're gonna drive us to Parachute. It's just a mile or two off-course…"

"Kyle's…gonna die…"

She tucked an arm under my shoulder and lifted me off the ground. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

I leaned against the wall, feeling limp. "Some snakes got free on his flight… he's gonna diiiiieeeee..." I groaned.

She shook her fist. "Jesus! I've had enough with all these God-damn snakes on these God-damn planes!"

* * *

><p><em>I'm sorry about this entire chapter…it was just…weird.<em>

_Review plz. I'll update faster. (ahaha, bribery~)_


	29. I Choose You!

_I'M NOT DEAD! XD_

_I was just in Canada for a week is all. Went to see Niagara Falls. It was amazing~ Canadians are SO freaking nice…it's like an inbreed genetic trait or something. (And yes, they **are** obsessed with Hockey...it's not just a sterotype)_

_Anyways, here's this._

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

"Kyle! Kyle, answer…please answer…!" the voicemail said.

"I can't _believe_ you missed the phone."

"Look, I was getting my luggage and I didn't notice my phone vibrate. I'll just call him back, okay Wendy?" I replied, trying to keep the bite out of my tone. I wanted to keep an optimistic façade.

It was pretty difficult by this point. A biologist was transporting a full cage of hundreds of poisonous snakes to New York to do a live presentation. That was the only information that was released about the incident.

Then there was the play. I knew _exactly_ what Cartman was doing with this, and I planned to put an end to this. He'd have to make my money back for me in an honest way. If he wouldn't have morals, I'd have to make up for it.

All in all, I was stressed out. But, I wanted to seem calm for Wendy. She was shook up from the snakes and extremely upset for some reason. She'd been completely silent since Stan had called on the plane. I didn't know what was wrong with her, but I had to prove that Stan cared about her. Otherwise, she'd break up with him again and it would break his heart…again.

Stan had tried calling five times and I hadn't noticed. I wondered if there was a way to set the phone to vibrate harder so I'd realize it was ringing…

After listening to his desperate voicemails, I felt really bad about missing his calls. Stan always had a…_thing_ with snakes. He was probably terrified for me. Which was somehow…gratifying. And that little bit of pride that it gave me, knowing how worried he was, led to instant guilt. Wendy was feeling unloved because Stan had been more concerned about _me_.

The last three calls had been from the same number, so I guess he'd gotten a hotel room. I redialed the number and waited. There was really no wait though; he picked up immediately.

"Kyle?" he gasped.

"Yep…" I said, grinning. His voice still sounded just as horrified as before, but the fear was letting up.

"Ah…" he sighed. I could imagine him letting his head fall into his palms. "Did you get bitten?"

"Nope, we're both good."

"Both?"

I winced. He really _didn't_ worry about Wendy at all. Maybe she _should_ break up with him. "Me and Wendy…"

"Oh yeah…her. Is she there with you?"

"Not right now…" I replied. "Why?"

"Ah…no reason. I just…need to talk to her," he said, voice cracking.

"You _do_," I agreed.

He sighed, probably running his hand through his hair like he always did when he was really stressed out. Was it weird that I could figure what he was doing without even seeing him? God, we spend _way_ too much time together. I hadn't even gone three hours without talking to him on the phone. "So, you're alright?"

"Not a scratch," I assured him. "Why are you so worried anyway?"

He was leaning against the wall now. I heard all the air leave his lungs like he'd collapsed against one. "Kyle…how did you feel when I was kidknapped by the skins?"

I glanced over at Wendy. We were standing outside the hotel Cartman had made reservations at. There were several other people from our school that I recognized. Token and Clyde had come as well as Bebe, Sara, and Red...probably others too; already inside.

"Well, I was _mad_ that you just didn't _care_. You didn't stop and think about how it would affect me if you got yourself killed…" My voice faded off as I caught on to his point. I must have come off as uncaring just like he had back then. "Great…now I feel bad…thank you, Stan."

"You're welcome," he said sarcastically. "_Don't try and be a hero,_ you said."

"Yeah…I know," I said, defeated. "I'm sorry I made you worry. But, you need to worry about your girlfriend too…she feels-"

"I don't care," he cut me off.

"What? S-Stan?"

"She…just doesn't interest me much anymore. I don't wanna keep pushing something that's not there. I mean… I don't know what I mean. Kyle, you won't tell her will you? I want to do this myself for once."

"You're sure? Stan, you worked so hard to get her in the first place. If you break up with her, those lessons I gave you will be useless."

He laughed on the other line. "Trust me, Kyle. They had a purpose..."

"What're you?"

"Well, see you in two days, right?" he said, voice pumped with excessive amounts of cheeriness.

"Ah…right," I replied suspiciously, letting him avoid the subject for now.

"Bye, Kyle. Love you," he said happily.

"Ah…love you too," I replied and he hung up. I stared at my phone, watching the little numbers trace the seconds until I hung up as well.

My lessons _had_ had a purpose I guess. It was a useful skill either way. Was he after Rebecca? No…Stan wouldn't betray me like that, I knew he wouldn't. But, if not her…than who? Wait…did he just say that he-…for me-? Well, I guess it was _obvious_ after all this time, but…still. Maybe he meant a little bit _more_ when he said he loved me.

I shook my head. That was preposterous.

Stan and I were best friends. We were like…brothers or something. I wasn't lying when I said I loved him, but how could I not? It was _Stan_. He was perfect in every way. We were compatible on every level, and that was why we'd remained friends through all our little arguments.

But…if he gave me the chance to make us more…would I take it? Maybe he was _trying_ to give me the chance all along… Those little _lessons_…it had felt so nice to have him touch me like that.

Since I wasn't actually the one losing my virginity to Rebecca when I'd done it, he'd given me the closest thing to a sexual experience that _I'd_ ever had. And…I'd liked it.

So, that made it final. If Stan made the first move…I'd respond back in earnest. If not…

"Kyle! I'm so glad you're here!"

I turned just to be tackled by a blur of orange. All my previous thoughts wiped momentarily from my brain. "Kenny?" I cried. "I thought you couldn't be _forced_ to come?"

He shrugged casually. "Neh, I changed my mind. I thought about it and…well, it's not like I have to go to the _play_. It's a free trip to _New York_. You'd have to be out of your fuckin mind to let that pass by."

I grinned at him. It was nice to have a familiar face that I'd truly be glad to see. "You're completely right," I agreed. "Are we gonna go grab something to eat? My mom gave me like…sixty bucks for two days in the city."

"Well, if you insist, I'll let you buy me a pizza!" he laughed.

…:::…

MARSH

I hung up the phone, grinning uncontrollably.

Rebecca and I had checked into a little motel off the side of the road in Parachute, using my dad's credit card to pay. It was maxed out completely now so we'd have to make some money somehow to rent a taxi. We'd need a lot if we were gonna make it to L.A. still.

"You got ahold of him?" Rebecca said, coming out of the bathroom with a towel over her hair. She'd just come out of the shower.

"Yep."

"And he's fine?"

"Ah…perfectly fine," I said, collapsing into the hotel bed. I stared up at the plaster ceiling, smiling like an idiot.

I felt the side of the bed dip down. I glanced over. Rebecca had sat down next to me. "Why're you so happy? Just cause he's alive?"

"Well, there's that…and…he said he loves me…" I said giddily.

Her expression fell considerably. I bit my tongue. I'd forgotten that she liked Kyle too…God that was an asshole move. _Nice job, Stan!_

She forced a smile. "That's good… I mean, are you sure he meant it like that?"

"Oh, I'm positive he _didn't_," I said, still smiling regardless. "But, it's still nice to hear, y'know?"

"I'm sure…" she muttered.

There was an awkward silence after that. I remembered the time Cartman had been joking around, saying that every time there's an awkward silence, a gay baby is born. I almost laughed again.

"Well…we should look for a job or something…" she suggested calmly. "I can only make _so_ much money on the streets…"

"Oh, _hell_ no! You are _not_ thinking about whoring yourself out again, are you?" I demanded angrily. I thought she'd grown over this. It still disgusted me to think that she had _ever_ stooped so low.

"How else are we going to make money?" she demanded, obviously sick of herself as well.

I was about to answer, but there was a sudden knock at our hotel door. I chose to answer that instead. I peered through the peephole to see a man with a dark blue fedora and a business suit on. I glanced back at Rebecca before answering the door.

"Are you Stanley Marsh and Rebecca Cotswald?" the stout man said.

I stared at him. What the hell? Who was this freak? How did he _think_ I would react to something like that _'yes of course, you're only an old creep that followed us to our hotel room and somehow knows our names. Of course, you can come in.'_

I did the most logical thing. I slammed the door in his face.

"Who was that?" Rebecca demanded from behind the wall to the bathroom.

"I've got no clue," I replied. There was another knock at the door, louder and more persistent. "Apparently he hasn't left," I muttered.

"Oh, just let him talk or something," Rebecca said. "He's not going away until you do."

"I'm sorry!" the man cried on the other side of the door. I glared through the peephole at him. He was fidgeting with a briefcase. "I didn't mean to come across as a threat! I'm trying to offer you a gig at my restaurant. I heard you singing on the news and I think you'd be a big hit!"

I exchanged an excited look with Rebecca and she nodded enthusiastically. I turned back to the door. "Okay…here…" I said, slipping the complimentary notebook under the door with a pen. "Write down the time, place, pay, and anything else on there and slip it back under…and…um…thank you."

The notebook slid back under the door. "I hope you'll be there. I'll pay in advance…"

"Thank you, sir…and I'm sorry I slammed the door in your face."

There was a laugh on the other side and I heard him walking down the hall. I turned back to Rebecca. "I think we should take it," she said calmly.

"I do to0, but…don't you think it's just a little _too_ good…"

"You want to know what I think?" she wondered. I nodded. "I think you're paranoid," she concluded. "We've only been on the road one night and we've already totaled your truck. What else could go wrong?"

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

"So, they threw out his retainer with the trays and we had to buy him a new one. I swear, it's like the universe wants us to stay poor," Kenny ranted. He was saying something about his brother, Kevin.

"You just wouldn't be _Kenny_ if you weren't dirt poor. I'm sorry, Ken, but yes…the universe wants you to stay poor," I said. He glanced at me, noting my sarcastic smirk. We busted up laughing.

He punched my arm. "God, you really fucking suck, Kyle!"

I laughed. "Hey, I'm buying you pizza, chill out!"

He pouted, shoving his slice deeper into his throat and nearly choking on it. I swear he eats like he might die any second. Still, it was nice to have some simple conversation. Kenny was simplistic…maybe I could talk to him about Stan. But…what if he told Cartman? No…Kenny wouldn't do that.

"Hey, Ken?" I said carefully.

His eyes rose from his pizza; teeth still planted firmly in the cheese. He was still grinning stupidly. Oh, wow…he looked like a puppy. I laughed into my palm quietly. "What?" he said; mouth full.

"I think I need to talk to you…about Stan…"

"Hm?" he said.

"I think…he's breaking up with Wendy…for good."

Kenny perked up, staring at me. "Why?" he wondered, setting down his slice of pizza.

"I just…think he doesn't like her anymore."

He froze. "What?" he said, bewildered. "How is that even…_possible_. Stan and Wendy have been…forever…they've just…dude, since they were _nine_!"

"Yeah, I know," I muttered, fiddling with the straw of my cola. I'd need to check my blood sugar later...

"So…if not Wendy…who does he like?"

I considered telling him my suspicions, but I pussied out at the last second, and I shrugged. "Hell if I know. Does he have to _like_ someone all the time?"

Kenny shrugged in response and took a monstrous bite of his pizza. He'd already downed four slices. I wanted to see how many he could eat before he got sick. It was sort of a ritual. If someone bought him food we made bets on how much he could eat.

"So…what're you doing about Cartman's play?" he said after finishing his seventh slice. I'd eaten the last one, just to have a reason to pay for it. It was totally worth it. Kenny would be on the toilet for the rest of the night. New York pizza was always the greasiest.

I grinned. "I've got a diagram I drew up on the plane ride here. I've got it all planned..." I said, smirking.

"Oh, really? I've decied I'm probably just gonna watch it. I mean…if you're gonna trash it anyway, I might as well be amused, right?" he reasoned. "But…you actually thought up plans on that plane ride? I was fucking _terrified_ that whole time. I'm surprised I didn't get killed…"

"I'm surprised that nobody I know was bitten…" I said. It was still astounding.

"I'm surprised that _I_ wasn't bitten," he repeated.

"I mean, there were at least five deaths, and four hospitalizations. It was really a blessing that it wasn't anybody we know…"

"Yea…like _me_!"

"Um…right?"

* * *

><p><em>Yay~ an update. <em>

_I promised myself I would put one up the day I got back, so here it is._

_Next Chapter is the play and Stan and Rebecca make it to LA. _

_I know it's kinda vain and presumptuous, but…is it too early to ask for fanart? _

_I'm on Deviantart, so…it would be so cool to see a picture of my story on there…(I'll just dream about it…)_

_Reviews make me type faster~ _


	30. You're so Muggle Your Mom's a Jew!

_I'm sorry about all the musical scenes in this. If I could write lyrics, I'd come up with this epically hysterical song to pick fun at senators and television stars, but I can't write poetry (which is pretty much what lyrics are). So, the musical scene is really just for me. _

_With the last Harry Potter movie coming out and me getting my license…it feels like my childhood is gone and it's depressing. So, onward I trudge…_

_This wasn't proofread at all, and it's really fucking long. So...sorry._

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

I stared at my diagram, laughing to myself. It was almost midnight. Cartman's play would open tomorrow at three. I was actually _excited_ about this. I'd even changed the lyrics to five of his musical production scenes so that they would poke fat jabs at _him_ instead. All I had to do was get him out of the way and I could just get Butters to fake his voice. We could impersonate the director and get the actors to follow _my_ script…

But, until then…I could enjoy the city and the hotel. It was a five-star hotel, a nice one to boot. There were two twin-size beds, a flat-screen television, and a Jacuzzi tub. I had a nice view of Broadway from my room. I dropped my suitcase next to the bed and pulled back the curtains. I couldn't wait for nightfall. This place would be _beautiful_…

There was a hesitant knock at the door. I turned and moved back across the room. I leaned over and looked out the peephole. I grinned, seeing Kenny on the other side, so I unlocked the door and let him inside.

"Hey, dude!" he said, running into my room and flipping over onto my bed.

"What're you doing?" I demanded, not really minding the intrusion.

"Well, Craig decided to come, so I had to room with someone. Who was supposed to be in this room with you?"

"Ah, I think it was Tweek. I doubt his parents let him come. In New York…with all the coffee shops…he'd be a wreck."

Kenny laughed. "As if his parents _care_ if he drinks coffee. Hell, they _promote_ it!"

I smirked. "So," I said casually, leaning against the door. "How did Craig drive you out of your room?"

"Eh…he didn't really. But, you know. Craig can be a complete downer sometimes…"

I nodded. He always knew how to ruin a perfectly good adventure.

I jumped when my pocket suddenly buzzed violently. My hand flew to my thigh. "Fucking phone scared the shit outta me!" I said in response to Kenny's smirk. I flipped open the phone and lifted it to my ear.

"Kyle Brovflovski! You are grounded for your _entire_ summer vacation!" mom's voice shouted on the other line. I cringed notably.

"Is this about the widow?" I said carefully.

"This is about the window, the trip to New York, the doctor's bill for an _STD_ check, the call from your principle about a cat fight over you, _and_ helping your friend run away with his father's credit card! I _am furious_!"

"Y-you sound it…" I muttered.

"Who gave you Syphilis?" she demanded lividly. Her voice was rising so high I had to really concentrate to pick her words apart into something I could understand.

"Ah…mom I didn't _actually_ get any STDs…I used a condom…I just…wanted to be sure…"

She was crying now. "How could you do this to yourself, Kyle? I thought I raised you to be smarter than this!" she moaned.

_God_, she was _really_ making me feel guilty, like me having sex had pulled both of her arms out of their sockets or something. I was being safer than most teens my age! "I used a _condom_ mom!" I said defensively, punching Kenny when he waggled his eyebrows.

"That's no excuse, Kyle! I thought you were going to wait to start doing things like that until you'd found the person you want to marry! I'll deal with _you_ when you get home! For now…just…defend our family…" she said, defeated.

"I will mom…I won't let him belittle our people," I swore. She hung up without saying goodbye.

"Soooo…" Kenny said slowly. I cringed, waiting for him to unload about what a bitch my mom was. But, frankly…I didn't blame her for getting pissed. I guess she just had me so well-brainwashed that I was already thinking like her, but…I mean…it _was_ irresponsible. And I _had_ kinda wanted to save myself. But…at least I still had the mental portion of it left for me. I was still a mental virgin. "Wanna go to the pool?" Kenny concluded.

I stared at him gratefully. "Sure…just let me change. I'll meet you up there…"

He laughed. "No need dude, I ain't got a swimsuit. I'll just swim in my boxers."

"That's disgusting, Kenny!"

He shrugged. "The pool's got chlorine, Kyle. It's not like you'll be getting any of my underwear germs on you!"

I glared at him. Just because I didn't like being covered in shit like some people, everyone presumed me a clean freak. "Oh, let it go," I muttered.

He put on his favorite shit-eating grin and leaned forward on the bed. "Also, I'm gonna steal your shampoos and soaps and stuff…to bring home…"

"They won't let you take them on a plane," I reminded him.

"They'll have to," he said darkly. "I'll just drink them down and gorge them out of myself when I get home. The family needs soap."

I stripped off my shirt. "That is _seriously fucked_ up man…" I muttered.

He shrugged again. "What doesn't kill me makes me stronger and what does kill me can just blow it out its ass," he said, his voice growing darkly ominous.

"Great attitude you got there," I commented smartly, tugging my pants off. Kenny wolf-whistled and I glared up at him as I pulled on my favorite green swim trunks.

"Great _ass_ you got there," he retorted.

I laughed, "Shut the hell up."

…:::…

MARSH

"I wonder how much he'll pay us…" I wondered aloud, sitting down on my bed after I'd taken my shower.

She laughed. "Well, in this kinda hick town, he probably doesn't _have_ much to pay us with." She was doodling on the back of the notebook, but she stopped when I came from the bathroom, and she passed it to me.

I shrugged and pocketed the notebook. "Are you gonna perform with me?" I asked her.

"Sure," she said, to my surprise. "I used to take singing lessons with my church choir director. I can only play piano…but I'll sing."

I grinned. I didn't get nervous in front of crowds often, but if I was being paid to perform…it was a bit more nerve-wracking. Having someone up there _with_ me would make this easier. "What song do we both know?"

…

The next morning, we took the elevator down to the lobby and grabbed two cups of coffee before setting out with the restaurant address in hand. We finally arrived on foot about thirty minutes later. I'd started getting a suspicion when we'd gotten onto the block written in the address. It was a pretty heavily populated area with rich people stores and tourist traps everywhere.

As we walked up the driveway to the restaurant, I was starting to realize…we were gonna make a _lot_ of money off this place. It was _huge_! I grinned.

We went inside and were lead by a waiter to the manager that had come to our room last night. He smiled, his chubby face wrinkling in glee. He shook my hand fervently and put a check in my hand. I glanced down at it and my jaw dropped…three hundred dollars?

"Ah…sir?"

"Get up there and perform, boy!" he said happily. "We've got the news crew here to film it! You're a big hit in this town…"

He lead us quickly and fitted me off with an acoustic guitar. I glanced at the crowd. We were under bright spotlights so I really couldn't see how far the tables went. Rich patrons were eating and chatting quietly.

"Are you ready?" Rebecca mouthed to me.

I leaned my ear to the strings and tuned them carefully. I nodded to her when I was satisfied with their pitch. She bit her lip and turned back around to the microphone. "Ah…hello. I'm Rebecca and this is Stan-" She was cut off by loud cheering. Her cheeks flushed and she turned back to me. I waved her on. "And we're representing Moop…I hope you remember them." This was just met by silence and I had to wave her forward again. "Ah, this song is called 'Lessons in New Jersey by Meg and Dia. Enjoy…"

She turned back to me and I began my short guitar intro, fingers lightly crawling across the unfamiliar strings. She snapped and began singing.

…

I played the final cord and she took a deep breath. The audience was on their feet clapping.

I stood and walked to the mic. "Okay, this next song is called 'Somewhere Only We Know' by Keane," I said calmly. Rebecca moved behind me to sit at the keyboard. She'd promised to accompany me on this one as best as she could. She gave me a smile. "Bear with me please…it's just a cover," I said before I began the chord progressions.

I'd learned this song a few days ago actually. After getting my license…it felt like I was more of an adult than I was ready to be. All my friends couldn't drive yet. I reflected on the past few years and realized how much we'd all matured. Even Cartman wasn't as much of an asshole as he'd used to be. But, I'd take any verbal abuse he could throw at me just to go back to the days before I understood.

I didn't want to think about the economy or about politics. I didn't want to worry with my own finances, education, or health. I didn't want to worry about making my relationships more serious and weeding through my friends to pick out what was reality and what was child's play. I wanted to keep _all_ my friends even if they weren't really my friends. I didn't want to care about such things. Responsibility was such a scary concept. I didn't want a job, children, or a wife. I didn't want to go to college or pay for gas and car insurance… I just wanted to be able to amuse myself by running in circles again…

A lot of people speculated that the song was about a relationship that was falling apart, but that didn't click in my brain. It seemed more like a reflection on a slipping youth. The lyrics meant a lot to me…especially now.

"Oh simple thing…where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on," I sang as sweetly as I could. "So tell me when…you're gonna let me in. I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin."

Rebecca was playing perfectly. I'd just printed out some sheet music for her this morning. I was pretty amazed. I guess homeschooled kids have to do _something_ in their spare time. Like studying and playing instruments.

"Is this the place…we used to love? Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?"

I focused on the music, trying not to miss any notes. I hadn't had much practice at this song. That made it a little intimidating to play, but I'd be fine if I concentrated. Besides, we'd already been paid to do this, so if I screwed up it wasn't like we weren't going to get paid.

"And if you have a minute why don't we go…talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything. So why don't we go…somewhere only we know…? " I repeated the last two sentences and played the last note.

The crowed clapped and I took a deep breath. I guess I had a bad habit of putting _way_ too much emotion into things. I turned and received a thumbs-up from Rebecca.

That song was the one that had scared me the most to do today. We'd debated the entire night about it. She had been afraid that she wouldn't be able to read the music well enough. I had been afraid that I would forget a chord or start breaking down on stage. But, we'd made it through perfectly.

After three more songs, our performance was over and we left with our money for the bank.

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

I woke feeling extremely well-rested. I tossed back the comforter and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Today was the big day.

I'd have to begin by crashing the rehearsal. I had torn apart a set of socks last night and sewn them back together to make a gag. Cartman would undoubtedly start screaming if I tried to stuff him in a janitor's closet. I'd looked up the blueprints for the theater that the show was taking place in. Everything was prepared.

I took a shower, brushed my teeth, and slipped into some nice-but-casual clothing. I even tried to tame my hair a bit. I did one last check in the mirror before leaving. Butters would meet me down in the lobby, so I grabbed a cup of coffee while I waited on him.

I ended up waiting fifteen minutes on him. I sat quietly and stirred some maple syrup into my coffee- a trick that Ike had taught me after visiting Canada a few years ago. Those people were _crazy_ obsessed with their maple and syrup.

"Gee, Kyle…I'm really sorry I'm late… You didn't wait too long, did you?"

I gave him a smile and stood up. I was in an irrevocably good mood today. "Course not. Are you ready?"

He nodded and hitched his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. I grabbed my suitcase and escorted him out of the hotel. We walked through an alleyway and across to Broadway. It was…amazing…even during the day.

There were huge billboards of recent movies that had come out, big lights and advertisements flashing everywhere, stores and restaurants were in every shot, and it was _packed_.

"W-what do you think everyone is here for?" Butters wondered.

I walked out onto the sidewalk to see further down the street. "Oh my God…_really_? He picked the day that the last Harry Potter movie premieres to try and open his play?" I groaned.

It seemed like a bad idea when first viewed, but I stopped and thought…why would he do that? Well…today of all days, Broadway was gonna be packed. Not everyone here was going to be able to get into the first viewing. Most people wouldn't get in at all. And they probably knew that. So, they'd look for other things to do on Broadway…like going to see the Book of Jew.

If that theater was already packed, it would ruin all chances of me getting in before th crowd to kidnap Cartman and redirect the play. "Fucking-…he chooses _now_ to be smart!" I cried in disgust. Butters jumped and gave me a horrified and confused look.

I felt so stupid. I should've just kidnapped him _last night_ and crashed the dress rehearsal. "This is so fucking _bad_…"

The red carpet was rolled out and fangirls were screaming everywhere. News buses were blocking most of the traffic and I couldn't see very far down the road to find where Cartman's theater even _was_. I was about ready to rip my hair out in frustration. I'd promised my mom that I would defend the Jewish name. If I failed her _again_ I'd be grounded until graduation…

"What's wrong, Kyle?" Butters said innocently. "I thought you liked Harry Potter?"

"I did, Butters…it's just…this is going to ruin our plan! If I can't get to the theater and if there's already people in there…"

"Well, why don't you ask someone for help?" he reasoned.

I pulled my hair. "Goddamnit Butters! Do you even _know_ what you're _talking_ about?" I shouted. A few people had stopped to give our argument a second glance, but we _were_ in New York, so it we pretty natural actually.

"Well…yeah, Kyle…ask them for help," he said, pointing through the crowd at Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson, and Rupert Grint.

I stared at him. What the hell is wrong with this kid? I face-palmed dramatically. "Butters…you _do_ know that they only _portray_ wizards in a _movie_. They don't _actually_ have magic powers…?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well _duh_! I just mean that you should tell them your dilemma… I'm sure Harry Potter would help you if you asked him I mean-"

"Oh my _God_, Butters! You're so stupid! He's not _really_ Harry Potter. That's Daniel Radcliffe! He's an actor! Why would he want to help _me_?" I began pacing in frustration.

Butters put his hands on his hips and glared at me thoroughly. "Because, _Kyle_. Daniel Radcliffe's mother is Jewish. And there are other Jewish actors in the movies too y'know? If you told them that your good name was about to be soiled…I'm sure they've got the power to help."

I froze where I stood. My head snapped back to look at him smirking at me vindictively. "Wait…his mother…?"

Butters nodded.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" I said, shaking his shoulders.

"Well, ya wouldn't really let me."

"Oh…sorry," I apologized quickly. I grabbed his wrist. "Come on! We've got to get their attention!"

That was easier said than done. I'd forgotten how popular Harry Potter was…and how many fanatics there were. They formed an impenetrable wall half a mile thick.

"Kyle…there's no way through!" Butters cried, being squished between a man with a massive beer-belly and a mother of six with all her children.

I searched the surroundings. There was no way through the people, but we _had_ to get up there to talk to Radcliffe. Guards had fences set up to keep people away and there were nets above the stars to keep people from jumping from buildings at them. But…it wasn't as strong a defense as the massive crowd of people…

"I've got an idea!" I shouted, pulling his wrist to guide him out of the crowd. We ran around the mass of fans and went back into our hotel.

"What're we doing Kyle?" Butters wondered as we rode up the elevator.

"Were crashing an opening party…" I answered.

"Well, I know _that_…but how?" he said.

The elevator stopped on the tenth floor and Kenny walked in casually. "Hey…Kyle what's wrong?" he said, noting my crazed expression.

"Nothing!" I snapped, jamming the 'doors close' button with my thumb.

"Seriously?" Kenny said suspiciously.

"Kyle is trying to get Daniel Radcliffe to help him stop Cartman's play," Butters informed him.

"Oh, I was just heading to that…" Kenny relied happily. "What's this about Daniel Radcliffe…who's that?"

Butter's face paled. "Who's Daniel Radcliffe? He's Harry Potter!"

"Oh, I didn't know that. I mean…I read the books…just didn't care enough to know the actor's name…but, hey…that's cool. How's he supposed to help ruin cartman's play, though?" he asked, directing his question to me.

The elevator doors opened and I grabbed Butters' wrist again. "No time!"

We ran down the hallway and into my hotel room. Kenny trailed behind us curiously. I ripped the bedsheets off my bed and began making knots and adjustments. "Okay!" I began. "We're going to have to jump. The only way to get to the stars is from above. It's the least guarded!"

Butters tensed. "Are you _insane_? We're on the eighteenth floor!"

"I think it's a _great_ idea…" Kenny said after some hesitation. "In fact…I'll go first…" he offered, frowning. We watched as he opened the sliding door and stepped out onto my balcony. "You guys can use the bedsheet parachutes…I'll cut a hole in the mesh for you. And…Kyle?" he said, lifting himself onto the ledge and looking at me before standing. "Would you mind…filming this please?"

"What the hell, Kenny! Get down from there, that's dangerous!" I cried frantically, I ran forward to grab his anckle.

He shrugged. "Guess not then…but, you know what? I can always just get the tapes…I'm sure this'll be _all_ over the news…"

I was almost there! But I was too late and he leaned over the edge. "Oh my God! We killed Kenny!" Butters cried.

I fell onto the cement paving of the balcony. "I'm such a bastard…" I groaned.

Below us everyone was screaming. I couldn't blame them…

Butters balled up his fists. "Well…we've _got_ to do this now, huh? Kenny sacrificed himself so we could put a stop to this! Come on Kyle!" he said. I felt his hands under my arms, lifting me up. He tied the bed sheet around my wrists.

I glanced at him, "You're right, Butters…it's the least we can do…right?" I said, biting back tears. Poor Kenny…

"I'll go first!" he said, climbing up onto the ledge and position his sheet behind himself. I stood and watched as he jumped over the ledge. For a second, my heart caught…he was falling too fast. But then, his sheet caught the air and he drifted down directly to the huge rip in the mesh that Kenny's fall had created.

I followed him down, swallowing my fear and trusting God and holding the ends of the sheet tightly. I lost my stomach for a minute, but I lifted my arms and positioned myself to drift. The sheet caught and I leaned to keep myself on track to the opening.

My sheet caught in the mesh as I went down and I was suspended three feet from the ground. All around me, people were screaming and the guards were trying to contain Butters. He was screaming at the lady who played Bellatrix Lestrange.

I clenched my teeth and pulled my arms up, flipping upside down and wrapping my legs around the sheet as the guards came to get me. I was out of their reach just long enough to untie my wrists. I flipped back down and ran forward to Daniel.

Of course, guards stopped me and forced my arms behind my back. But, Daniel didn't run. He just stared at me in shock.

"Please help me!" I cried. "I know your mother is Jewish, so please help me protect our good name!"

"What?" he said in his British accent.

"This fat asshole that lives near me is directing a play that's sole purpose is to turn everyone against the Jews…again. He's the next hitler…please help!"

Rupert Grint nudged the actor with his elbow. "I think we should help him…" he said carefully.

Daniel nodded. "Might as well see what he's talking about…right?"

"Oh, please! Thank you!" I cried. Somehow this seemed unreal. I was shocked that they were trusting me. I'd just parachuted from a hotel building after a kid had committed suicide to clear the way, and now I was asking some of the most famous people on earth to help me stop Cartman…this couldn't be reality.

"Alright…guards, let him go…" he said, waving his arm.

…:::…

MARSH

We took a taxi from our hotel and _finally _made it to L.A.

It was much warmer here than I'd ever thought it would be. It wasn't particularly crowded, but there were a _lot_ of tourists. We had the taxi driver drive us all the way to Hollywood Boulevard.

We paid the mustached taxi driver and got out with our only luggage, a wallet and a purse. We were standing next to the Chinese Theater and Mecca. I searched the rows of buildings.

"Did you talk to this guy on the phone?" Rebecca wondered.

"I did," I confirmed, nodding. "A few hours before we left. He said he's eager to hear my presentation."

"Well, where is his office?"

"Somewhere near the Kodak Theater. I think he said it was on the end of the block behind that theater."

"Well, let's go."

* * *

><p><em>When I woke up this morning, my friend ever since fourth grade had left 23 text messages on my cellphone to tell me that she was glad to have me to talk to, and that she had realized that I was her best friend. It got me all emotional because she had talked about all the ways that she was afraid she'd hurt me in the past and I started reflecting…we had a lot of roadbumps. <em>

_First her parents got divorced, then she sort of ditched me and started hanging out with one of my other friends all time, then my best friend died and I tried coming to her but she was never really there, her mom had a drinking problem and she hated visiting her but that's where she was eighty percent of the time. I couldn't go to her house when she was at her mom's. Then she had troubles with her self esteem and weight, then her mother died and her friend she'd ditched me for had no noticeable sympathy. So, she came to me and I didn't know how to comfort her, but I tried. Now that I think about it, we've had a lot more drama than I'd realized..._

_So, this chapter was pretty emotional for me…again. _

_And I'm sorry if it's not the status quo with what you're used to…_


	31. Spellcasters

_Okay, I'll admit…I'm gonna have way too much fun with this. _

_I saw the midnight screening on Friday morning. The last movie was…amazing. I wanted to cry cause it was over, but I couldn't make myself cause it was just…too good…_

* * *

><p>BROFLOVSKI<p>

"I can't believe this is actually happening!" Butters cried.

"Big fan?" Daniel Radcliffe said.

"You have no idea!" Butters shouted back. We were running through the crowd. Their guards were clearing a path for us and a small army of actors that was charging in behind us.

"Well, I'm glad you told me about this! I know you Americans take your freedom of speech pretty seriously, but this…this is just…"

"It's _Cartman_," I explained. "He's the biggest asshole you'll ever meet." My voice was a bit strained. How were these guys not out of breath yet? "And…I mean he's the _biggest_…"

Nobody questioned me. "What theater is this in?" Emma Watson demanded. She'd broken the heels off her shoes to run faster.

"Ah! This one!" I shouted back, pointing to a building, completely submerged in the crowd. The guards plowed through the mass of people, clearing the way for us. We charged through, breaking past the doorman at the theater and crashing through the double doors at the front.

Inside, there was a foyer with dark red carpets and brown paneling in the walls. A diamond chandelier was suspended above our heads. The room opened up to a carpeted staircase with long, curling banisters.

We dashed up the stairs, I turned to Butters as we ran. "Who else on the cast is Jewish, just out of curiosity…?"

He tapped his chin. "Ah, Jason Isaacs, Miriam Margoyles, Helena Carter, and Zoë Wanamaker…"

"Their character names, Butters! I don't know who the fuck you're saying!"

"Oh! Um, Malfoy's dad, Professor Sprout, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Madame Hooch. Those are the only ones I know of…"

"I think he got'm all, actually," Rupert Grint said, catching up behind me. "Did 'e?"

"Yes, Rupert," Emma confirmed patently.

We broke through another pair of doors, crashing out into the main theater. I wasn't surprised to see the place packed. Everyone was chatting excitedly. They thought this was all going to be in good humor? With Cartman…this would be a brainwashing session.

"Everyone, wands at the ready…" Radcliffe instructed.

"What?" I demanded. "Really…?"

"I toldja they were real wizards, Kyle!" Butters said, squealing like a little fangirl.

"Like hell you said anything of the sort!"

They ran forward, dodging stray people that were still standing in the aisle. A few people noticed just _who_ was charging through the theater and they started standing up and snapping pictures on their phones.

"Cartman will be backstage right now!" I supplied.

"Don't worry, we'll handle this," Watson said calmly, holding her arm out. "You haven't got the Spellcaster, so just stand behind us!"

"What?"

"We're going in," Rupert Grint warned before pulling the heavy red curtains back and holding it open for his co-stars to run through.

Butters and I ran in last. I could already hear the sound of battle on the other side of the curtain. We ran in, taking in the scene.

The stars of Harry Potter were engaged in an epic battle, waving their arms and casting spells left and right to ward off the actors of Cartman's play. For some reason, they were armed as well. Next to my head, a table holding up a crate of books exploded. I jumped out of the way, grabbing Butters' arm and pulling him with me.

"It's kinda dangerous back here! Maybe we should just go!" Butters suggested.

"Don't you want to watch this?" I demanded. "I'm going to find Cartman!"

"You're going to face the Dark Master on your own?" someone said next to me in awe. "Do you even have a Spellcaster?"

I turned. The lady who plays Bellatrix Lestrange was standing next to me, she stunned a man wearing a fake yamaka. "What the hell is a Spellcaster? If you're talking about a wand, no…I wouldn't have one!"

"Well, we don't either!" she replied, fending off three little children, one of which must've been Ike since he looked Canadian.

"Then how are you casting spells?"

"Stupify!" she cried. The little kids flew back against a prop bookshelf and it toppled over, taking down a fat woman wearing an apron. "It's an app! Do you have an Iphone?"

I dug in my pocket. "Course…"

"Download it! Quickly!"

"Sectum Sempra!"

There was a ripping sound and suddenly Mrs. Carter had fallen onto the ground in a puddle of blood. "Oh my God, she killed Belatrix Lestrange!" Butters cried, kneeling down.

"Not my fake Jewish children you _bitch_!" the fat woman who had been knocked over said, getting to her feet properly. She raised her phone, aiming at me to cast another spell.

I closed my eyes tightly. "Defendo!"

"Petrificus totalus!"

I opened my eyes. Rupert Grint was standing over me. Emma Watson had frozen the actress. "Download the app, mate. Quickly now!" Ron said.

I searched the app store on my phone. "Ah, found it!" I hit the download button and waited.

There was a crash next to me as a glass vase popped, sending shards of glass across the stage. Butters started crying. The audience on the other side of the curtain was screaming, probably trying to get out. The curtain had caught on fire.

"How far is it?" Ron demanded.

"Forty-seven percent!"

"Ah, look for better reception!" Hermione cried.

I held the phone up, but it did nothing. "I need higher ground…"

"Up there!" Grint said, pointing to the stairs that lead to the props room. I made a dash for it, ducking under airborne spells and flying shrapnel. I dodged an actor or two than was thrown in the scrimmage.

I climbed the wooden staircase and held my phone up. The bar moved another knotch. "Fifty-nine!"

"Kyle, look out!" Butters suddenly shouted. There was a loud crack and the sound of splintering. The staircase was blown to pieces under me. The wooden frame collapsed in on itself. I jumped, catching onto the doorknob of the props room as the staircase fell to the ground in a dusty heap. I held myself a story above the ground with one hand. I lifted my phone with the other.

"Kyle?"

"Ninety-nine percent!" I cried. My hand slipped suddenly. I dropped.

"Aresto-momento!"

I paused, mid-air, just inches from the floor. The spell dropped me roughly, and I looked at my phone. I accepted all the terms of agreement, skipping through the reading and waivers. Wait…waivers? I shrugged. "I've got it! Now what do I do?"

"Just cast spells like we do in the movies! It's the same general idea!" Emma Watson shouted, a fake streetlight breaking over her head. "Hurry! There's no time to teach you! Find the Dark Master!"

"Are you talking about Cartman?" I demanded. "What the fuck? Dark Master?"

"Exactly," someone said gravely next to me. The old man who plays Dumbledore was standing against the wall over the wreckage of the staircase. When had _he_ gotten there? "The Dark Master is that boy's online name. He had mastered _every_ spell available in the system. He's even programmed a few of his own. _I_ cannot even face him… We knew that he would be putting on a play on Broadway this week. That's why we decided to come to the opening night tonight on this street. But, we can only bring you so far. If you are the Jew of the prophecy, you must defeat him and put an end to this play. If you don't…we might be facing the Third World War…"

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you senile?"

"But…be careful. This is a dangerous quest," the old bat continued. "You must not die…I care about you deeply." He put a hand on my shoulder.

"Alright, I'll go! Fucking pedophile!" I said, shrugging his hand off and climbing over the fallen pieces of painted plywood. Cartman should've been backstage still, but if he wasn't here, he must already be in the control box above the audience.

I dashed across the stage again, crawling under the curtain and leaving through the left cast exit. There should be a hidden passage to the staircase up there; if this theater was anything like ours at school. I was in drama club freshman year, so I should know.

A 'crew only' door looked promising. I tried the door. It was locked.

I glanced at my iphone in my palm. I guess I'd give this a try… "Alohomora…" I said carefully, pointing the tip of my phone at the lock. I was half expecting it to be locked by some sort of magic. But, Cartman probably didn't expect me to come up there like this…not with a Spellcaster.

"Lumos," I said, flicking my iphone. The screen light up. I held it out and ascended the dark staircase. There was another locked door at the end. I repeated the spell and opened the door carefully.

"Nox…" I whispered. My phone went dark. I tucked it into my pocket before entering. There was no reason why I couldn't try to talk this one out with Cartman. He didn't need to know that we could duel over this. If he made the first move to cast a spell, I would retaliate. Until then, I would try _my_ way.

"Cartman, you fat fuck!"

He turned around. He was dressed like an idiot. He had on a dark purple suit and a crinkled brown fedora hat. He was wearing shiny black shoes and had on white pants and a pair of pointed glasses. Was this supposed to be…like his director's costume or something?

"Ah…Kyle. I knew you would come…"

"What the fuck is this about Cartman. You can't go through with this play…"

"It's too late now Kyle," he said smiling. "The world will _finally_ see you Jews for what you are…" He pressed a button and the charred remains of the stage curtain flowed to the side. On the stage, the stars of the Harry Potter movies were tied up and hung from the light hooks above the curtain line. The audience gasped dramatically below us.

"Let them go, they've got nothing to do with this," I growled.

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle…they have _everything_ to do with this. Have you not seen the movies? These are the strongest wizards of our day! And…once they see this play, they'll know…just like you will…"

"Cartman, you are a _fucking_ retard."

"Tell me, Kyle… How did you get in here?" Cartman said slowly. He was suspicious…obviously.

"I used the door retard," I said coolly.

"Really?" Cartman cooed. "Because I did something to that door…I used a spell on that door…"

"What the hell are you-?"

"Colloportus?" he snapped. "Do you recognize that spell? Kyle?"

"It…no…"

"It locks doors so they cannot be opened by muggle phones. Do you know what that means? It means that you've got a spellcaster…let's see what you can do with it!"

"Ruptispecktus!"

"Densaugeo!"

My hand flew to my eyes. They burned intensely, suddenly. The conjunctivitis curse…it was only used twice in the entire series…how did he remember it?

"Fuckin Jew!" Cartman cried. "My twett bwwrr maek thowr stooppp!"

"Ahaha, like your new teeth?" I teased. They should be growing right about now.

"Locomotor Mortith!" he cried, his voice lisping on the 's' so it was more of a 'th'.

My legs snapped together and wouldn't move. I toppled over. "Lumos Duo!" I shouted, aiming blindly. If I was gonna be blind, so was he! "Ruptispecktus!"

Cartman screamed. I was thrown back against the wall suddenly and lifted up into the air by my wrists. He was casting spells without speaking!

"Levicorpus!" I shouted. While he was in the air I cast an anti-jinx spell on my eyes and they cleared. He was hanging upside by his ankle just a few inches away from me, swatting blindly. "Let it go Cartman! I memorized thousands of fucking spells! We'll be at it all night and we'll totally destroy each other! Just let things go back to normal!" I shouted. "Desendo…" I said, waving my phone at my wrist where I was being held up. I dropped back down to the floor.

"No! This is my one chance!" Cartman shouted. "Ebublio!"

"Protego!" I shouted, blocking the spell. I leaned forward and punched him in the face, snatching his phone from his dangling hand. "Give it up!"

"Fucking JEW!"

"Selfish prick!" I shouted and I shut off my phone. I tossed his through the control room window. It smashed the glass and flew into the audience below. "Furnunculus…" I cast, just for good measure. Large painful boils swelled up all over Cartman's face. He started crying. "Oh…and…uh…langlock" his crying became muffled as his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Ahahaha, and uh…rictusempra!" I said gleefully. He trembled in silent, painful laughter. Tickling is totally a form of torture.

It was nice to come out on top for a change… And here I'd always thought that my extensive knowledge of Harry Potter spells would only get me teased…

I made my way back downstairs to the stage. The actors were bound and gagged, hanging from the light fixtures. I sighed. "Relashio…relashio…relashio," I went around to each one and untied them. I helped them down and we all walked to the edge of the stage and took a bow.

The audience cheered, expecting that, that was the play they'd come to see. Either that or they were just excited to see the cast of Harry Potter. Probably the latter…

"Wow…Kyle…I watched you up in that control room. That was amazing!" Butters gushed.

I rubbed the back of my arm. "Yeah…It's really nerdy, but Harry Potter used to be my guilty pleasure…" I admitted shamefully.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, so I don't actually own an iphone to know how the hell those things work, so I'm sure there are many things wrong with the whole downloading description. But, whatever. And I know you can't actually cast real spells…but it's South Park.<em>

_Also, this story doesn't really have a timescale. I mean, the last Harry Potter movie came out in the summer and according to the story's timeline, it would still be May. But there isn't really a timescale in the show either, so I figure it's fine._

_Anyway there's that. Review plz._


	32. Wake Up

_Wow! Last chapter got more views than ever! That makes me so happy! I was really proud of that chapter…you guys are making me arrogant. I'm happy it was well-liked though. It was the first real fight scene for this story~ _

_Unfortunately, I have the feeling this chapter is badly written…lots of jumping around…_

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

"You…are a genius…" Rebecca said, holding a check and staring at it in awe.

I grinned. "Let's get back and show this to Kyle…" I said.

The ride home went much smoother. We put the money in my credit account at an ATM and withdrew some to pay for the bus ride. Rebecca slept the entire ride home. I texted with Kyle while she dozed on my shoulder.

"_Im just glad that my phone recovered from the snow… it was probably dumb 2 throw it out the widow back there…" _he was saying.

"_Yea, I cant beleve ur phone works still…"_ I typed. "_But seriously, I don't beleve u. Theres no way in hell that happened._"

"_Believe it dude,_" he replied. "_Remember when u always called me a nerd for knowing all that shit. Everyone in school woulda teased me if they'd known… and I just stopped World War 3 apparently."_

I smiled. Kyle was so weird. But, I guess I'd just believe whatever the hell he said. He'd never lied to me before. And, wait till he'd heard all _my_ stories…

I was so excited to see him again. We'd have school tomorrow morning and I just wanted to spend the entire day with him, no classes, no peers, no parents, nobody but us. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he saw the money… He'd never have to work a day in his life!

A new text message came in. "a_nd…Stan…dont 4get Wendy…_"

I sighed, staring at the screen. I knew I needed to break up with her now, for sure. But…what would I say to her? I'd worked so hard to get her and keep her for all these years. And, I had to wonder what Kyle was thinking about the whole thing. Was he suspicious about _why_ I suddenly wanted to break up with her? If Kyle didn't feel the same…I didn't want to scare him away. We'd always be friends, but I didn't want to make him uncomfortable…at all.

I flipped my phone closed.

It was getting dark outside. Traffic was pretty reasonable for a Saturday night in the city. I distracted myself, looking out the window as the bus rolled us home. There were very few other passengers that were still riding. The bus would only take us as far as Denver. We'd have to pay for a taxi from there.

It grew dark and the street lights turned on. Rebecca moved over to sleep against the window instead. I decided I should probably follow her example and catch some rest. We still had seven hours before our stop. She would wake me up in time.

I rested my head back against the back of the seat.

…

By the time I woke up dawn was just barely breaking. Rebecca was shaking me, already standing in the aisle. "Stan, this is our stop," she informed me, lifting me from under my arms. I grunted and found my footing.

We walked out into the warm Denver air. I love spring in Colorado. It's so short, it's almost non-existent. It's either hot or cold around here.

"Rebecca," I said conversationally as we walked into the city to find a taxi. She turned and acknowledged me. "I need some advice from a girl…"

"Shoot," she replied calmly.

"I need to break up with Wendy. I realize that I can't keep going out with her… Even if Kyle doesn't love me back, I don't want to lead her on…"

She smiled sadly. "You're right, and that's the proper thing to do. Just tell her why."

"You want me to tell her I suddenly realized I'm gay for my best friend?" I demanded. We stopped and she flagged down a taxi.

"I'm just saying. Girls like honesty. If you ever loved her at all, you should have the decency to tell her the reason why you're cutting it off. Even if you're not comfortable with it, and you still think it's embarrassing, I think she would appreciate it. And, she might even be able to give you some advice or something. She's good at this relationship stuff…"

We boarded the taxi and I told the driver our destination. I turned back to Rebecca. "I think I get it," I said carefully. "I'm not the type of guy that would just tell her _nothing_. But, do you have any _idea_ how awkward it'll be?"

"Fucking tell her!" Rebecca said, twitching slightly.

"Wha…I- I was…going to…"

"Don't be an asswipe. I'm so fucking serious…"

"Are you okay?" I said, concerned. "You're…being weird…"

"So, a girl asking a guy _not_ to be an asswipe is _weird_?" she said lividly. Oh…shit. She was going all feminist on me. She was twitching still.

She finally snapped, speaking quickly. "It's a psychological instinct in every species on earth. The larger of every pair is always the more dominant in some way or another. Even when the smaller controls the relationship, they'll still feel threatened. I'm fucking _sick_ of it! What's the point of being _'loved_' if it's just an excuse to be 'dominated'. No! I don't want a relationship! I don't want…_anybody_…"

I smiled carefully. "Rebecca, you don't have to. You were born in America…greatest country on earth. You can live a perfectly happy life on your own…"

She sighed, sinking back against the seat. "But…it'll be so lonely…"

Wow…this girl has got some _issues_… I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. I hated seeing people beating themselves apart inside like this. "Rebecca. I think you need to find a guy that's shorter than you and is kinda…reserved. Otherwise, you're going to be feeling like your defending your alpha position for your entire life…"

"But I don't like short guys…" she sobbed.

"Ah…then what about someone who's just _barely_ taller than you?"

She just huffed and went quiet. "Life can be so fucked up sometimes…" she muttered.

We drove on.

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

Security at the airport that night was much tighter; probably due to the snake incident. It was a pain in the ass, but I guess it was better than being huddled up under a blanket with Wendy for four hours while Stan called me obsessively.

I stared at my phone for almost the entire ride. What the hell had just happened exactly?

A text message from Stan came in, so I chatted with him for awhile via text messages.

When we touched down, I waited in the luggage pick-up for fifteen minutes. It was growing warmer, so I set out to walk home, but Craig pulled up to the side of the road with Clyde in the passenger seat. "Hop in Jew," he said calmly.

Clyde waived at me casually. They drove me directly to my house and let me out. I thanked them, shucking my backpack higher on my arm and lifting my suitcase. I hesitated before going inside. My mom would be…_pissed_.

I opened the door carefully. She was waiting in the living room. "Kyle! Kyle Brovflovski!"

I closed the door and armed myself with my phone. "Cheero…" I cast.

She cracked up giggling for a minute then rushed over to hug me tightly. "It's so good to see you, Kyle! Do you want some cookies! I'll go make cookies…"

I grinned as she rushed off to the kitchen. Maybe I'd keep this app on my phone for awhile…this was better than having _no_ parents…

I walked upstairs to put away my overnight bag. I wanted to catch some more sleep before I had to go to temple. I glanced at my phone as I brushed my teeth.

It was from Stan… "_Dude, come to my house after temple tomorrow…I've got a surprise for you…"_

I read the message, slightly curious. What the hell was he talking about now? I just shrugged and plopped over onto my bed. The cushion huffed under me indignantly. I hugged a pillow for my neck and passed out.

…

The next morning, we ate pancakes and went to worship like we did every Sunday. The Rabbi let us out just a little bit early for once.

My mom was still in a good mood and my dad had no idea how to handle the situation. He yelled at me a little in her stead, but she just stopped him and kissed him. God, I wanted to puke.

I fled the car as soon as possible and walked directly to Stan's house, not bothering to change out of my nice Sunday clothes. I walked up his doorstep and rang the bell. I had no idea if he was home, so I didn't want to just walk in the back like I normally did.

Shelly answered the door. "Oh, it's you," she said. She must've been home from college for the summer. She held the door open. Shelly had matured a lot over the past six years. She didn't have braces any more…of course. She'd chilled out as well, though she was still no ray of sunshine. "He's upstairs," she muttered.

"Thanks…" I said and I walked past her.

Stan's house was designed almost exactly like mine inside. Just a bathroom or closet difference. I climbed the stairs and knocked on Stan's bedroom door.

"Come in," his voice sounded on the other side of the door.

I let myself inside. Stan wasn't wearing pants yet. He was still changing out of his church clothes so he was in his boxers. I sat on his bed while he pulled on a pair of jeans. "Why'd you call me over here, dude?"

"I've got a surprise," Stan said cryptically. Why couldn't he just be specific?

"What?"

"Close your eyes…" he said, stepping closer. "And hold out your hands…"

I stared at him blankly for a moment before obeying. I felt his hand in mine for a moment before he placed a piece of paper into my palm. He stepped away and I opened my eyes. I looked down into my hand. There was a small check.

"The rest is coming by mail…" he said softly.

"Wha…Stan…Oh my God how the hell did you get this?" I demanded, staring down at the large quantity of zeros behind that five.

He was grinning calmly. "I sold our stories."

"What?"

"Our adventures. I took them to Hollywood and sold the rights to them. They're being made into movies. They gave me seven million, but I demanded to be given five in person so I could give it to you like this."

He smiled and reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I stared down at the check then back up at him, unsure what to think. So, I didn't. I stepped forward, grabbed him by the collar, and pressed our faces together.

He tried to ask something, but it got muffled off by my lips. He gave up and kissed back, weaving his hands in my hair and pulling on it gently. I whined in the back of my throat and urged the kiss deeper.

He laughed in the back of his throat and returned it until our tongues were wrestling furiously. We pressed our hips together, writhing slightly in discomfort. I gripped into his hair, knotting and twirling my fingers through the smooth locks.

Stan was good. He was…really good. He mirrored my actions and kissed so tenderly yet so avidly. His hands roamed through my hair and under my chin. He didn't try to push it any faster than I lead. His mouth was soft and raw. He didn't have the sticky lip-gloss that girls wore; just bare flesh touching.

I didn't stop to think about the implications. Stan and I were just natural. I wasn't afraid or worried. This felt simple now.

We made-out heatedly until his lungs gave out and he grew dizzy, collapsing down onto his bed behind us. I broke off a second and he took a deep breath before pulling me back down on him.

The tongue-match resumed for a few minutes before I pulled away. "Ha…haaa…wow…thank you, Stan…" I breathed.

He smiled. "No need for that," he said smoothly. He pushed me off gently and sat up. "It was easy… They really loved your character I described for them. I think you pretty much sold the stories…well, you and Cartman's bickering mostly."

I grinned and pressed our foreheads together. "And I'm sure they loved your cynical indifference…" I breathed.

He laughed, wrapping his arms over my back. There was a silent understanding. Things could be like this from now on. _We_ could be like this from now on. No more holding back. I trusted that he would end things with Wendy for me. He wasn't a jackass after all.

Stan had technically made the first move by doing this for me. And, I'd returned it…

I was pretty glad I had…

* * *

><p><em>Ahhh…so badly written. Not proud of this chapter. God, my brain is so A.D.D. I'm not even sure how it surmounted to that. But, hey! At least it did…finally. <em>

_Money can't buy you happiness, but it sure can buy you a makeout session with your best friend that you're secretly attracted to- which would probably make you happy. So it can buy happiness…sometimes._

_This story has gotten so long…_

_It's still 60,000 words shorter than my actual book, but it's getting up there…._

_I'm just going to go back to dancing around my room to British music._

_Review please?_


	33. KFC

_Okay, so I still don't __**really**__ know where this is going. I got so many good ideas…and so many odd ones…but none were wasted. _

_I feel like this chapter is me failing you all. Ugh, it's so short!_

_I think I'm gonna pick on Sony Music for being an evil mind-control conspiracy, Matt and Trey will be characters in the story as well. Cartman will get his chance on television and Kenny will make money. But, for now, let's just have some fluff. You guy's've stuck with me for 31 chapters with barely anything…so…_

* * *

><p>MARSH<p>

I wrapped my fingers in his hair and he pressed our foreheads together. "So…" I said carefully. "You _are_ cool with this, right?"

He rolled his eyes. "My _God_, Stan. _I_ was the one who just initiated that, right?"

I laughed awkwardly. "Jesus Christ, I was just checking! But…what do we do now?" It was still a bit weird. Well…it _felt_ natural, but the history behind it was weird. We'd been best friends forever, this was a step in a…different...direction.

Kyle just sat back. I put my knees up for him to lean against while he straddled me. He grinned. "We don't have to _do_ anything, that's the beauty of it! We can totally just be like normal and it'll be fine."

His hand raked into my hair. I grinned. "Are you going to make me celebrate Hanukkah with you now?" I teased.

He just rolled his eyes. "Whatever dude. You guys are always assholes in December anyway."

I sighed contentedly, letting my head fall onto a pillow. It was good to have him back. Being away for two whole days was too long. "So…spellcasters?" I said conversationally. "Explain this to me."

He laughed. "As if I even know what the hell happened. It just felt good to kick Cartman's ass for once…"

I grinned, resting my palms on his thighs. "I'd bet 'Chosen One'," I teased.

He chose to ignore me. "Y'know, I don't even think that was the gayest thing we've done together…just now."

I shook my head. "Oh, probably not. I'd say all the hand-holding and the 'practice' sessions were probably gayest."

He leaned back on my hips, resting on my raised knees. "Or that time you got all hot and bothered cause you saw me all shirtless and wet and junk when I was in that shower."

I scowled at him. "It's your own fault."

He quirked a dark eyebrow. "Really? Okay. Um…then what about the time Mr. Garrison made us take care of that egg as a married couple?"

"Yeah…we were both pretty gay without even trying," I agreed.

"I was kinda an asshole bout that one…sorry," he muttered.

I patted his leg, "Hey, you apologized for not trustin me like…six year ago. It's ancient history. Besides, I was being a dick with the whole jealousy thing."

He smiled and played with the lint in his pocket. "How do you think Cartman will take this?"

"We're gonna _tell_ him?" I said, hoping he'd say no.

He just shrugged. "It's better than him finding out on his own. You know how he hates to hear things secondhand."

"I dunno man…you've gotta be fucking stupid. Cartman is a gay-basher, homophobe, nazi. Do you _really_ want to give him any _more_ reason to try and kill you?"

He shrugged. "Might as well. I still think he's as gay as a unicorn puking rainbows, he's just in denial. Maybe if we come out then he'll do the same."

"Yeah, and maybe Charlie Sheen will open an orphanage and promote prohibition."

He laughed. "Well. Let's just give it time. First thing's first. You gotta talk to Wendy. I'll talk to Rebecca."

"Do we gotta do it _now_?" I complained.

He leaned over, brushing his thumb over my lip, "No, right now we should make out."

So we did. There was a moment in there where my brain just sort of died and was like '_Holy shit, Stan…you're making out with __**Kyle**__'_ but I told it to shut up. So, I concentrated on the _amazing_ things this boy could do with his mouth.

His tongue slipped across my lip, and I let him enter. I slid past him on the other side and we wrestled for space. He took a ragged breath against my cheek, moaning slightly when I found the roof of his mouth.

I tugged at his hair and he keened a bit, rocking forward in my lap. He carefully ground our hips together a bit and I gasped to stifle a moan. "Kyle," I hissed.

"Hmmm?" he hummed innocently, fingers working themselves into the skin on my neck.

Then I remembered something. My parents were still downstairs…

And they never knock…

I shoved him off and he toppled over onto the floor. "The fuck?" he shouted angrily.

"My parents are like…_right_ downstairs!" I hissed. He just sent me a glare that said 'you didn't have to break my ass'. "We should go outside…" I suggested. "Are _your_ parents home?"

"Ah, yeah!" he said obviously. "I think we can handle acting normal for awhile. Let's go talk to Wendy, and then we can go get some food or somethin'."

"KFC?"

"Fuck yea."

…:::…

BROVFLOVSKI

Okay…so…going with your new 'boyfriend' or 'ex-best-now-boy-friend' to help him break up with his current 'girlfriend' was probably not a good idea. It was awkward. It was tense. There was crying. Stan kept looking at me like I could help. Not a good idea…all in all.

"Well…I think she took it well," I offered as we walked to Kentucky Fried Chicken.

He grunted. "She called me a 'hoser'," he muttered, defeated. "What the hell is a hoser, Kyle?"

"Ike calls me that all the time…" I muttered, tapping my chin in thought.

"So it's Canadian?"

"Actually, I think it's a British insult."

"Ah, the fuck do I care," he muttered.

I glanced at him, worried. He never took break-ups well. But, he'd never been the one to do the 'breaking' part. He hadn't said anything about _us_, and he didn't say there was anyone else at all. So, we could still keep this a secret for awhile.

"Hey?" I said, tilting his chin so he'd stop staring at the ground. "Are you regretting this? Because…I don't want you to think that I'm forcing myself on you."

His face flushed. "No! No…it's just a shame is all. I should've realized earlier…before she put so much effort into me. I've been wasting her time…and ours."

I just smiled at him. "Let's just get some chicken and I'll cash in this check. There's no point in regret."

He smiled. "Yeah." He took my hand and we walked through the drive through. I ordered us a bucket of chicken and we walked with it to the bank.

"How do you think Rebecca's gonna take this?" I wondered.

He just shrugged. "She's kinda feminist. I think the only reason why she liked you was because you were never very forceful or rude. I don't think she'll date anyone but you."

"Gee…that makes me feel a shiton better, thank you, Stan," I said sarcastically.

"Mmmhhmm," he mumbled into his chicken leg. "She'll be fine. She's not the dating type anyway. She probably doesn't wanna settle down either, so it's best this way."

I contemplated this. Rebecca was a lot like me now that I thought about it. And Stan and Wendy were very similar in a lot of ways. Is it just me or are people so self-centered that they fall for people that look or act like they do?

I just shrugged and reached for another wing. Stan's hand brushed mine in the same endeavor. I just grinned and stroked his hand suggestively. He pulled back, glaring at me. I got first dibs.

"So," I began, biting into my new wing. "About these movies…what all did you give away?"

"Oh, like…everything. They're either going to make a series or movies. I'm hoping they do a series. How cool would that be?"

"You know who's acting in it?" I wondered curiously.

"Ah, I know that Nicholas Cage is playing me…" he muttered.

"The fuck?"

"I dunno man. He's in all of those remotely-actiony movies that tend to be for smaller children than adults…"

I laughed. "With our language? I think we're technically supposed to be for mature audiences…"

He grinned and swallowed down his mouthful. "Yeah, I doubt that works anymore. Kids can always pay a hobo to be their dad or something to get into a theater."

* * *

><p><em>Goddamnit! I think writer's block is a mental disorder or somethin, cause it's <em>_**not**__ going away._

_I guess I'm just distracted by my other story. I'm really enjoying writing it… _

_I feel like a __**real**__ fanfiction writer! Making you guys wait a month for an update and it turns out to be a filler chapter!_

_I think I've joined the club. I'm surprised I still knew how to format this._

_Technically- according to the site rules- I'm not supposed to have 'real' people in this thing. Like actors and things, but…It's South Park, so it really can't be helped. Just…please don't report me? Please?_


	34. Triumfuck you

_I'm so sorry I haven't written in so long. But, I'm back and as eccentric as ever. I'm sorry if the end of this chapter starts making less and less sense. It'll fit together in the next chapter or two. Until then, just remember it's SOUTH PARK, so don't try to hard to understand._

* * *

><p>BROVFLOVSKI<p>

I always figured that people who were born knowing other languages were the lucky ones. They didn't have to sit through fucking boring classes, memorize a hundred and eighty vocabulary words a week, and listen to a middle-aged woman complain about her private life in between bouts of speaking in random Spanish-sounding gibberish.

In elementary school, we'd been _required_ to learn Spanish, but we were given the choice in Middle school whether or not we wanted to continue and finish learning the language. Kenny, Cartman, and Stan had all wizened up and dropped the class, but it wasn't like me to let three years of learning a language go to waste.

So, here I was: a sophomore in high school, in Spanish 3 after taking the course for eight years. I could barely make a sentence, and I definitely couldn't hold a conversation, but at least I could understand people when they were talking…

But, I blame the school system.

I mean, I learned hebrew for my barmitsba three years ago. Even _Hebrew_ made more sense than the preterite and imperfect cases.

I guess it was alright. I still made high A's, so I figured it would be fine to add Latin to the workload for the year. So, there was that as well. My mom said it would help with the SATs. And it was a helluva lot easier to understand that than Spanish…I might as well learn Russian as well...and maybe Chinese would be helpful...

I tapped my mechanical pencil against the desk restlessly, waiting for the bell to finally ring. Once school let out, I'd go to see if I made the football team. If I did, I'd need to drop the track team next year to make time for practices.

I'd been thinking a lot about all my extracurricular activities over the past few days since spring break had ended. Cartman had found a way to join EVERY CLUB I chose to join. EVERY. FUCKING. CLUB.

He made it a competition. When I tried to run for secretary of Model UN, he ran against me almost immediately. I designed the tee shirts for Latin Club. So, he designed something flashier. I raised the most money for the homecoming dance, so he had to get Tyler Perry to come talk at the halftime show.

The bell rang and the languid students, drooped faces and chins resting in palms, suddenly sprung into motion, throwing backpacks over shoulders and sliding between desks to race for the door. I filed out, caught up behind the slow kids shuffling out the door. Somehow highschool has the magical power to turn teenagers into zombies.

Despite having so many things suddenly change in my life- namely the situation between me and Stan; Cartman wouldn't get out of my brain. I'd been getting so fucking sick of his competition lately. And no, it wasn't just because he was seemingly…wi-

No. That's a lie.

He's cheating.

"Sup dude."

I ran a hand through my hair and turned. "Hey Stan," I said, stepping closer without even thinking and winding my arm around his waist while we tried to fight through the crowd. I looked over at him, double-taking fast enough to get whiplash. "Dude…what's up with the getup?"

He grinned, fixing a pair of glasses on his nose, looking down at his Polaroid flannel over a 'The Transit War' tee shirt and a 'vintage' 1986 Rolex watch. He was wearing beaten up corduroys that were fraying at the bottoms and a pair of Pumas. "It's cool now…" he said.

I stared at him. "Dude…you don't need glasses," I deadpanned -not that he don't look damn sexy with them on- because he did...it was just a bit insulting for someone who legitly needed them.

He took them off and inspected them. "Yea…I know. That's why I replaced the lenses."

"Who the hell is 'The Transit War'?" I demanded, glaring at his shirt distrustfully.

He waved his hand dismissively as we started inching forward through the crowd to get out of the building. "They're just this awesome band that you've probably never heard of."

I dropped my arm off his waist. "Goddamnit…I know what's going on…" His eyebrow quirked. "You've gone hipster haven't you?" It was hard to miss, he'd just used the hipster _catch phrase_. 'awesome band you've probably never heard of'.

"I like you're shirt, Stan!" Bebe called from across the jammed hall. "The Transit War rocks!" she raised a rock-fist and Stan just closed his eyes and returned it. Bebe was wearing the same ridiculous type of fake glasses, and her hair was pinned up. Her shirt didn't cover her shoulders and was unbearably baggy.

Looking around at the hallway, a lot of kids had taken to the fashion style as well, sporting plaid scarfs and rustic leather boots. Kids were wearing denim jackets again and their pants tucked into high tops.

We stopped at my locker. Stan leaned against the one next to mine. "So, what brought this on?" I asked casually.

"Well, I found all these cool bands online, and I got a Tumblr-"

"Oh fuck," I muttered. I'd had a Tumblr for a year now, and I'd already witnessed the ways that it changed people. Suddenly everything they'd always thought 'uncool' was 'super awesome', and all the 'conformists' were stupid. They cried in a corner if their favorite bands were played on the radio and started actually making money off their careers.

It was stupidity. It was a really cool blog site and there _was_ some funny stuff on there and a lot of good professional porn, but it really didn't seem worth it sometimes. Plus, people could be real dicks on that site. It was like one huge competition to find the most unpopular bands that sounded remotely descent, and pretend that you're the only person on earth that's a freak.

I slammed my locker closed. "Look dude, don't take this trend too far."

"This isn't a _trend_!" he said defensively. "This is who I _am_, Kyle!"

I glanced around the hallway real quick to make sure nobody was around before pecking his lips and lifting my bag onto my shoulder. "Okay dude, whatever. I'm going to check the locker room to see if Coach Albright has posted the football positions yet."

I stretched my arms and started walking for the door.

"Oh, nice Meg and Dia top, Hannah, I love it~!" Stan gushed somewhere behind me.

"Moses…" I muttered. He was really going to make this annoying…

…

I stared at the team line-up grinning. I'd known I would have to be a running back since my specialty was running for short distance very quickly. I'd been a sprinter all last year on track. It was a nice surprise to see my name pasted next to the **Fullback** position, but I wasn't sure if I was built enough for a blocking position…

I scanned over the rest of the list and my chest tightened when Stan's name was written in the coach's tight scrawl next to **Quarterback**. He'd told me he'd talked to the coach and tried out. This would be _awesome_. The Fullback's _job_ was to protect the Quarterback by pass-blocking. Stan and I already made an awesome team. The South Park High cows might actually win for once this century!

"YES! LINEBACKER!"

My neck nearly snapped this time with how fast I turned. Cartman's rolls of fat were waving back and forth as he danced happily. "Fuck you Clyde~" he sang. "I'm a linebacker~"

"Shut the fuck up Cartman! I made the team too!"

"YEAH~!" he shouted in the brunettes face mockingly, "as CENTER! All you do is snap the ball! HAH!"

Clyde glared, "At least I handle the ball every play…" he growled.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Cartman had to follow me _here_ too? He had to do _everything_ I wanted to do? I stalked across the locker room, balling my fists. It was predictable that he'd make the team if he'd gone out for it. There were probably more spaces available on the team then there were people trying for them. But…still.

I grabbed him by the shoulder, digging my fingers through the fat where his pressure point would be. I pulled him behind me into a corner to talk, interrupting his stupid little dance. "Cartman…" I growled in hushed tone. "Why did you go out for football?"

His expression became serious. "It's a way for me to vent my rage toward minorities."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, that's great. Now, what's the real reason?"

His serious face didn't budge. "I wasn't joking, Kyle. American football teams are packed with minorities and fat white kids with no future elsewhere. I want to beat the shit out of these fags."

I stared at him blankly. "You do realize that you'll have to exercise, right?" I clarified.

"Duh. I'm not stupid, Kyle," he droned, brushing past me.

"Hm…as long as that's the only reason…" I mused

…Later, after school

"I still think Family Guy is a bit better…" I mumbled, reaching over Stan to get a handful of cheesy poofs.

We were sitting in his living room, sprawled out on the couch with our homework lying on the floor, unfinished and completely forgotten. It was hard to tell who was seated in who's lap. We kinds just had our legs all tied up and his head was propped on my arm, mine on his. His parents weren't home for an hour or so, so we'd had some time to just sit around and do coupley-things like pasionately suck faces and watch t.v.

"American Dad is pretty good though…you've gotta admit," he considered.

I grunted noncommittally and tugged his glasses off his nose. His hair was mused up from my petting during a heated kiss he'd broken off. "You made Quarterback by the way," I said casually.

He shrugged, "That's cool. I don't think I'll accept the spot."

"It's not an offer…" I said, bewildered. "Dude…_you_ tried out…don't you wanna play football with me?"

"Football's totally mainstream, Ky. I don't wanna be a poser."

I rolled my eyes. "Stan, it's not posing. You really _do_ like football, remember? You can't 'pose' to be something you _really are_."

He pulled free of my arms and looked at me darkly. "You don't understand Kyle. I've seen the light. I've seen what is to come. Everything will change."

I quirked and eyebrow curiously and brushed my fingers into his messy hair again. I really liked the way it felt between my fingers, and it kinds freaked me out a little that I just wanted to braid it or put it in bows or some gay shit like that. "Dude…this is just a phase, you've done this exact same shit before. It's a trend. You'll completely forget it in a week or so."

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me off the couch. I made a desperate grab for the cheesy poofs as he tugged me up to his room and sat me down on his bed. His face was flushed and he looked dead serious. I waggled my eyebrow 'seductively' and traced an finger up his arm. "Any reason why you brought me to your bed~?"

"You've gotta see this…" he said seriously, unplugging his laptop from the wall and setting it in my lap.

I reached for a cheese poof and clamped it between my teeth as I scrolled down his tumblr dashboard. There was mostly just crappy pictures of cats and the trollface put in random unfitting instances. I stopped at a picture of an optical illusion. He told me to click on it, so I did.

I was brought to a hipster blog called 'HipStarsAlign'. "What is this fuckery?" I demanded, scrolling down over psychedelic triangles with the universe inside them, or teenagers dressed like they were in the nineties or something.

"This is the future, Kyle…"

I quirked yet another eyebrow and turned to him, "Sure, I guess that's true that hipsters like to like things before they're popul-"

"No! Kyle! Look!"

He snatched the computer away and blew up the image of the triangle with the universe inside. I looked closer; there was Latin writing around the sides. "_Identify vestri quod penetro…_" I read aloud. "Stan, that just means-"

"Identify yourself and pass through…"

"Roughly…" I clarified. _I_ was the one taking Latin class anyway.

"The triangle is at the basis of every civilization and religion throughout human history. The ancient Greeks had _three_ major gods of Sky, Sea, and Underworld. The Baal-Shalisha, a pagan god of _three_ is mentioned in the Bible, in Kings. The Christian _trinity_. The _three_ sons of Abraham, the _Triumvirate_ in ancient Rome, the Federal _Triangle_ in D.C., the _triangle_ of Freemasonry, the _three_ tenses- past present and future, the _three_ branches of the Roman and American Republic, _triangles_ can be used to measure _any_ distance with trigonometry… Don't you get it?" he said urgently, shaking my shoulders.

"No, not really," I blanked. I think my boyfriend had finally gone off his rocker- not to mention he'd left out a lot of tenses (When you learn languages you learn _all the tenses_). "But, I take it that the number _three_ is important," I concluded.

"Come, you must understand."

…

"Where the fuck have you taken me?" I deadpanned, glancing around at an old empty warehouse that had been abandoned years ago. I recognized the building itself, but fuck if I could place what it used to be used for.

"The others are here, Kyle."

"The others?"

* * *

><p><em>That wasn't exactly fluffy, huh? I just like their relationship as a super-best-friends-with-benefits type thing...<em>

_With all the normal craziness still going on..._


	35. Who's Dating Who

_So, it's been awhile, huh guys?_

_I've improved a lot as a writer over the years that this fic has sat dormant. So, I'm going back through and fixing previous chapters. The storyline itself won't be altered much, just how it's written. Whether or not you want to go back and re-read the revisions is up to you._

_The chapter title is a reference to the song 'Something is Not Right With Me' by Cold War Kids. I didn't have something witty to use._

* * *

><p><strong>MARSH<strong>

"The three angles of a Triangle make a straight line. Add another triangle to the ends, and you have a timeline pointing both directions. Three triangles makes all past present and future."

"What the fuck are they talking about?" Kyle demanded, jabbing me in the side with his elbow.

I pressed a finger to his lips to shush him. "Just listen," I prompted, the pad of my fingertip brushing the dry skin on his bottom lip as it drew away. I realized, I knew exactly what that lip tasted like. Kyle's tone of voice still echoed in my head _'Any reason why you brought me to your bed?' _He had just been joking at the time, but it pissed me off a little- that he was treating the thought of sex with me lightly. Kyle had pretended to be asexual since the incident with Rebecca, and we would have to seriously discuss how far we wanted to go together at some point. Kyle was normally so solemn about things he cared about- so why was he making jokes about our relationship?

He bit back a retort and turned his attention to one of the Hipster trendtellers. I was standing a bit behind him, so he couldn't see me staring. I watched the way he fiddled with his pocket and how he scratched an itch on his ankle with his other foot, struggling to pay attention as the trendtellers spoke. We'd been going pretty steady for a few weeks now. We hadn't told anyone yet since he didn't seem all that serious…not serious enough to risk the social backlash.

I frowned unconsciously.

I'd found this group over the weekend. I was going to gamestop to finally get Skyrim, when a young woman sitting at a little table in front of the store had stopped me and told me she would read my future for free.

It wasn't like I could've turned down something that was _free._

So I had sat.

She had me pull up a chair and she took my hands first. Then, she turned up my palms and ran her fingers over the little lines. I had just stared at the plaid scarf and bangles she was wearing. The only thought going through my head was that she was dressed pretty weird.

She suddenly dropped my hand onto the table. "I'm going to use tarot cards now," she informed me. "Accompanied with these encrypted stones that will tell what the _planets_ have to say about your destiny."

I rolled my eyes as she set up the cards and dumped the stones out onto the table. I really didn't believe in this sort of shit anymore. I'd had _way_ too many experiences with the supernatural and I'd learned by now to just make my own path instead of stressing over what some 'psychic' had to say. They were always douche bags anyway.

That was until she had started reading my cards. "Hm…you've just gone into a relationship," she began. She lifted a card and looked closer, "Oh, no…I apologize; I mean you just began a romantic relationship with someone you've known for a _very_ long time."

"How...d-did you…"

"It's in your cards, sweetheart," she had said, fixing her glasses on her nose.

I leaned forward a little subconsciously. "What else do they say?" I wondered, throwing all regard into the wind. I wasn't completely convinced yet, but that was a really odd coincidence. I _swear_ this woman had _never_ seen me before.

She had smiled knowingly. "They say that you're very happy with this new development. Is this true?"

"Well…duh."

"And that you've waited for a long time for him to return your feelings."

My skin suddenly started burning as my brain caught up with what she said. How would she have known that I was in love with a _guy_? Either this woman was stalking me, I came across as flamboyantly gay, or this was real divination. (From past experience, this could be another possibility.)

"What do they say about my _future_?" I stressed.

"You're going to get married at a young age," she began, sliding cards into different positions. "But, it won't work out. You'll get a job where you'll work with large animals every day. And you'll love what you do."

"What about the guy?" I pressed, worrying with my lip then, after what she said about a marriage which didn't work out.

She had frowned, sliding half the stones away and positioning the other five onto the edges of the circle she'd tossed them into. "There are definitely trials and tribulations to be faced. According to your cards, you suffer cynicide often…"

I shook my head fervently. "I have that under control now!" I had cried, a stinging memory of the assburgers clinic and a terrible hangover came to mind. I had never been able to remember anything I had done when I was drunk. Kyle started treating me weird after the fact, like I was emotionally fragile or something. Eventually, he got over whatever it was, but I still get a bit wary about the whole memory.

Her mouth had set and she moved another stone. "Still, you hold a grudge in your heart."

"I do not!"- That was a lie.

It was probably the most depressing and difficult point in my life. Everything I had once loved was suddenly shit and I began wondering why I went on living at all if nothing was enjoyable anymore. I was just going through the motions like some limp puppet on a string. All my friends started hating me, and even _Kyle_ didn't bother trying to figure out what was really _wrong_ with me.

He…gave up on me…

…so easily….

…why was it so easy for him to do that to me?

I had remembered at the time, being so pissed off at him. He was supposed to be my **_best_** **_friend_**. I'd tried to give him my _fucking kidney_ once, and he couldn't even spare me the sympathy to ask why I was so disappointed with the world.

And he went to _Cartman._

Was I really _that_ easily replaced?

I sure as hell wasn't able to replace _him_ like that…

He just wanted a friend to have _fun_ with; he didn't want to deal with my _shit_ as well. He just wanted the laughs and someone to pull him up when he was dangling over a pit of fire with an animated towel clasping to his foot. But, when it came to holding my head up over the toilet as I puked my alcohol-poisoned liver out, where was he?

My diagnosis with cynicism was a real eye-opener for me. Kyle had always been my best friend. I had even realized that I loved him when we would play football and he would tackle Cartman into the ground and we would cheer. I just knew that he was there and I enjoyed life. I didn't realize that I didn't just love my best friend…I was _in love_ with him.

But…**_really_**? He turned to CARTMAN?!

I'd at least thought that would never change. I'd thought it would be me and him against the world. I'd always thought he would have my back and I would have his and we could hold out in our crazy backwards town. Any time something went wrong, he was right beside me, but as soon as _I_ had gone wrong, he was gone.

I had tried to say something intelligent to the fortune-teller, but…my mind had just whirled around the possibility- _what if Kyle really was a fair-weather friend…?_

"I-I've gotta go," I had said abruptly, shoving my chair back on the sidewalk and standing. I wasn't sure at the time, why I felt so frenzied over that little revelation.

She had nodded, grabbing a little cardstock business card and handing it to me. "Well, here, take my card and check us out on Tumblr and Facebook."

So I did. I'd gone home and made myself a Tumblr and checked out their blog. Fuck Facebook.

And now we were here. And I couldn't stop staring at my 'boyfriend'. A part of me knew I was just being stupid. There were plenty of times that Kyle had come through for me. For Christ's sake, he'd only _just_ lead my rescue party from the skinheads a few weeks ago.

But still. That had nothing to do with my mental wellness.

Somehow that one instance just burned really bright in my memory. It seemed to overshadow all the things he'd done for me since then, and I felt hurt all over again. I brought him here so hopefully he could use the hipster trendtellers psychic powers to understand. I really just wanted him to realize how badly I'd needed him back then. And why I'd felt so let down. I wanted him to feel at least a _little_ guilty…

For me, really…

I mean, did he even understand how in love with him I was? I knew I'd never really said it in a romantic sort of way, but I'd tried to show him every day since we'd agreed to take our friendship a bit further.

I'd always figured I was in love with Wendy, but that turned out to be more respect and looking up to her than loving her. I didn't know her as well as I knew Kyle. And I'd always felt obliged to be her boyfriend so I could stand up for her when she was letting her pride get in the way and not acknowledging Cartman's insults. Kyle had never needed that before.

What I had with Kyle was different. It was equilibrium. He could take care of himself, and I could take care of myself, but when either of us got overwhelmed, we could take care of each other. We just worked. And because Kyle and I were always very alike and had grown up under each other's influence, our expectations in a romantic relationship had grown around what we got from each other as friends. He told me that he didn't want to 'experiment' with dating, he wanted to date someone he really cared about. And, I was the same way.

But, here _we_ were dating each other. So, he obviously cared about me to some extent, right?

To me, the most important thing was being able to count on the people you put your trust into. To me, _real_ friends were most important. I wanted to know everything about Kyle. I wanted him to _tell_ me everything, and I wanted to trust him with everything. I wanted to be myself around him without any judgment, and I usually was pretty comfortable.

Still, staring at him with his hand on his hip and his back turned, I wasn't feeling comfortable. It was stupid…I knew that. But, the thing about dating someone I'd known since _forever_ was that, I came into the relationship feeling like something had been soiled. Some kind of innocent simplicity could no longer exist between us, and I didn't know how to adjust to that. Don't get me wrong, dating Kyle felt like the next natural step in my life and in our relationship. It was just- I was losing the version of Kyle that was just my friend, and it was difficult to convince myself that we were becoming something more because the 'best-friend' version of Kyle had been the only one in existence for so long. Losing that version of him felt like losing him completely.

I was deep in thought when his voice reached me. "-any of this?"

He was demanding something- an answer, but I hadn't heard the question. He was turned away from the trendtellers and looking at me, "Huh?" I said, raising a brow.

"You really believe this stuff?" Kyle repeated, though I was sure he'd reworded the question- possibly to be gentler to my beliefs. I assumed they had gotten on to the part about the future-telling stuff. I understood his disbelief- it was tough to digest at first.

I stepped up behind him and turned him back forward by the shoulder. The trendtellers were still giving their presentation to the new converts, and he should hear this part in its entirety. "Just trust me," I whispered.

...

**MCCORMICK**

Well, I had wasted a trip to New York. All I really got out of it was a pizza (courtesy Kyle) and a few moments of pseudo-flying (falling). Next thing I knew, I was tucked back up into bed, a new orange hoodie swaddled around my torso. Mom had missed my little arms that time when she swaddled me in the fabric, so, as they had grown back to the right size, my arms curled up inside the chest of the coat. The first thing I did was unzip the hoodie and put my arms through the holes properly.

No one remembered. No one even _missed_ me in New York.

That was almost a month ago now. And, since then, the rumor-mills had kicked up some dust. (By dust, of course I mean, old stories I had thought were laid to rest years ago.) Stan had broken up with Wendy as soon as everyone came back from the trip, (Kyle had given me the whole story of what happened in New York, and after that, he had told me all about the break-up, the crying, the name-calling, the pleas for help from Stan- very dramatic, very…teenage rom-com) and word had gotten around that Stan had done the actual _breaking_. I guess that's what triggered the talking. ( I hate talking. If more people would just cover their mouths, shut the hell up, and _think _before puking out words, I'm sure many a crisis could be averted) Everyone in South Park had always known Wendy as the heartbreaker and Stan as the heartbroken. So, I guess I could see where the confusion stemmed from.

It didn't excuse the kinds of things the 'mill' was saying about her though.

Stan had been avoiding her, or at least, he hadn't done anything about the rumors. Neither had any of her friends after the rumors claimed that she had cheated on Stan with _Kyle_. (I suspected that had something to do with jealousy since the entire female population of South Park High wanting a piece of that Jew-ass after the makeover- not to mention the fact that both Stan and Kyle had places on the Football team.)

I'd seen Kyle and Wendy under a blanket on the plane (as I was cowering under a row of seats), but it still didn't make sense to me at first- as a possible theory of why Stan would break up with her. Stan and Kyle had been even _more_ close lately than they were before the break-up. Stan would be pissed at Kyle if he fooled around with Wendy. It didn't follow. The 'mill' agreed with me several days later, making excuses for Stan and Kyle's excessive buddy-buddiness, claiming that Wendy forced herself on Kyle on the plane after she saw Stan on a road trip with Rebecca. They said that Stan was just being closer to Kyle to show him that he wasn't mad at him.

I had thought people were over the idea that Wendy might get with Kyle- in like...middle school.

Basically, the lies were out of hand, and Stan and Kyle were being a dicks about it. Not doing anything. It was fucking insane. How could Stan just leave Wendy to get fucked by these rumors? What was absorbing so much of his attention that he wouldn't notice?

It took almost a month- and a bribe from Rebecca (a good fuck-buddy and a concerned party)- for me to finally do something about it myself. I approached Wendy at her locker with a note from Rebecca, sealed shut with a sticker of a caduceus and snake (kinky roleplay with Rebecca gave me a hunch that this had to do with her aspiration to be a surgeon). "This is for you," I said simply, holding out the letter.

Wendy turned, brows raising a little when she saw me (we had never really talked much- I couldn't afford the AP exams for all the classes she took, so we didn't have any classes together or pass each other in the hall). "Ah, thank you," she replied, taking the letter gingerly. She kept staring.

I kept standing. It got awkward after about thirty-seconds of silence, "I don't believe the stories that you fucked Kyle," I blurted.

"Um…thank you, Kenny," she said slowly, tasting each word as if she hadn't been using her voice a lot recently. (I suppose she hadn't- without anyone to talk to who'd believe her).

God, I felt like a piece of shit. And I was pissed with Stan and Kyle for ignoring this- if that's really what was going on here. I hated seeing her so sad. I wanted to help her. I wanted to help her like I'd always helped Karen (the Mysterion outfit had stopped working against bullies once she hit middle school- they thought it was just lame- doesn't mean roundhouse kicks had stopped working). "I can find out what's going on with Stan," I offered honestly.

She perked up a little and the corner of my lip twitched. "You would do that?" she said hopefully.

"Of course," I promised. If there was one thing Wendy Testaburger liked, it was knowledge. I could imagine it sucked for her- not knowing why Stan had really broken up with her. Maybe, if he had a good reason, we could absolve all these stupid rumors.

With the offer standing, I figured she'd maybe hug me and thank me (and I'd get to feel those perky little b-cups against my chest…yeah, that'd be nice), but instead she just narrowed her eyes at me and lowered her voice to a threatening whisper, "You find out, and you tell no one- only me. You tell me and then _I_ choose what to do with that information." She had her pointer finger jabbed into my chest like it was a knife she could impale me with- and maybe would if I let her down. "Capisce?"

I raised my hands, "No need for threats, I'm not trying to fuck you over!" I snapped.

Her glare didn't soften, but she backed up and finished putting her books away. She left me standing in the hallway, perturbed- and a little turned on.

…

After school, I started walking home with Stan and Kyle- like we did every day. I considered asking them then, but they were engrossed in a conversation about some band I'd never heard of, and apparently neither had Kyle…or anyone else. What the fuck is a hipster?

Anyway, I broke off and headed home really quickly to drop off my schoolbags and get dinner ready for Karen. (I did that every day, since Kevin had left and gotten an apartment)

I figured Stan would be home by the time I headed back out, and I walked over to his house. By the time I got there, all the cars were gone from the driveway, so I knew his parents weren't home. Maybe no one was home. I figured I'd check before I rang the doorbell and got Sparky all upset (he was getting old now, peeing on everything and biting me because he couldn't smell to know who I was).

So, I peered in the living room window, between the blinds. It was a little difficult to see into the house (the Marshes keep their blinds closed), but I knew how to angle my view to see into the living room and just past into the kitchen and I saw…

Holy fuck, I saw-

"Holy fucking shitdicks…" I muttered, staring. I would recognize that ass anywhere, immediately. It was Kyle, grinding down on Stan and grabbing at his hair like a horny teenager. Stan seemed perfectly willing- no, _eager_ to roll up and give everything he was taking, hands pulling right back at Kyle's hair.

With the way they were rolling their hips and shaking, I figured they were about ten seconds from ripping clothes off- or at least coming in them.

I kept staring, mouth hanging open, holding down all kinds of inhuman noises I wanted to make in shock. I watched until Kyle actually _pulled back_ and plopped onto the other side of the couch- as if it was easy to just click off the heat in that situation. They started laughing at something (probably Stan's ruffled hair) and grabbed cheese poofs off the coffee table. They didn't cuddle or anything, just kinda tangled their legs up and adjusted their crotches where they were sporting neglected boners.

I was really just surprised that they didn't just go all the way in for the rut.

I would've.

But, I guess they were going to wait for the right time. I let that sink in- that Stan and Kyle were going steady, and it all made sense. They hadn't been paying attention to the rumors because they were so caught up in each other…and probably trying to keep their relationship a secret.

I was actually pretty happy for them.

But…I couldn't tell Wendy.

Stan and Kyle got up a few minutes later, running upstairs, and I wished I knew where Randy kept their ladder. They were probably up there fucking, and I wouldn't get to watch. I shrugged a little and headed home. There was no need to talk to Stan- I knew now why he'd broken up with Wendy.

…

* * *

><p><em>My updates will still be sparse. I have a very busy schedule and other fics I'd like to continue. I just had some inspiration that I figured I could get a few chapters out of.<em>

_Hope you like Kenny's POV. I know I don't write him like a lot of other authors._

_I have a surprise for everyone next chapter. You'll hear from some new characters._


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